


From the Ashes

by Siriusfanatic



Series: X-Men: Past, Present and Future [13]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Bobby Drake just wants to be noticed dammit, Charles is the worst well-meaning father figure, Depression, F/M, Hank McCoy is awkward as fuck someone help him, Hank has it so bad for Gambit it hurts, Logan and Jubilee play detective because, Logan doesn't fuck up in this one, Lots of angsty sex, M/M, Mental Illness, Multi, Open Relationships, Phoenix Cyclops, Polyamory, Possession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scott and Logan have so many issues, Slut Shaming, Storm has Bipolar Disorder, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 119,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9268373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusfanatic/pseuds/Siriusfanatic
Summary: It's only been a few weeks since Jean's death, but the X-Men are still reeling from the fallout. Charles enlists Gambit's help with bringing Scott back from the brink of his despair, unaware that the Phoenix force has found itself a new host in the grieving X-Man. As Scott's powers grow and change, altering his personality the X-Men are forced to deal with the possibility of the Phoenix's return, not to mention the growing strain on their relationship as new challenges threaten their bonds.





	1. Chapter 1

 

                How odd to be on the other side of the coin, Remy thought, absently testing his reflexes by shuffling a quarter through his fingers without the help of his palm. How odd to be the man to stay behind, rather than the man on the run.

                He was lying on the couch in one of the study rooms of the mansion. It was after dinner, and though the volume of students had decreased significantly due to the summer holidays, there was still a fair amount of noise to be had coming from the surrounding rooms. The sound of it; conversation, music, the TV blaring, feet darting up and down the halls, was comforting. It was a sign that slowly things were getting back to normal.

                Almost normal.

                It had been a week since Jean’s funeral. Almost two since Logan had left the school. Ororo had gone after him, and despite Remy’s insistence, she pleaded that he remain here.

                But without either of his partners around, Remy felt awkward, isolated. His part in what had transpired with Jean was small, but it was especially unflattering. And perhaps the worst of it was that even he couldn’t explain what exactly had happened between himself and grief stricken Scott Summers. Who was also currently missing.

                Someone stepped into the room then and Remy glanced over the back of the couch, catching sight of Hank’s shaggy blue head. At the same time, the doctor caught sight of him and paused abruptly, blinking.

                “Oh! Remy, there you are. I haven’t seen you all day.” He sounded flustered, and smiled awkwardly as an afterthought, adjusting his glasses as was his habit.

                The Cajun shrugged his shoulders, continuing to let the coin dance across his knuckles. “Don’t worry about it. Been laying low, if ya catch my drift.” He glanced at the reference shelves and the computer, “Don’t let me hold ya up, sure you got something important you need to do.”

                He sat up, and smoothed out his clothes, heading towards the door, pushing his tussled hair out of his eyes.

                “Wait, please,” he stammered, seeming urgent at first and then unsure. Remy paused and looked back at him, trying to remain passive, but feeling anxiety in his chest. “H-how are you doing? That is…the last few weeks have been a lot for all of us. Betsy and I have been arranging grief counseling sessions for the students and staff. I can’t help but notice you haven’t attended.”

                Gambit shrugged. “Some of us grieve quietly, Henri. And besides…don’t feel it would be very appropriate for me to be there. Not considering how things were between me and Ms. Grey in dose last few days.”

                “I understand,” Hank offered gently. “But actually, I was hoping to ask for your help with the students. You are…an exceptionally compassionate person. And they could all benefit from that right now.”

                Remy paused and then gave a little laugh of surprise. “C’est moi? Non, Hank…I mean, I’m always happy to help, of course, but I’m no counselor.”

                “You don’t have to be. But you’ve done wonders with Jubilee and Kitty. Both girls have been doing much better with you there to support them. The Professor hasn’t failed to notice.” He smiled, hoping Remy would be cheered by this, but Gambit only seemed more awkward.

                “Well, Jubilee is special ta me and Kitty seems to like me well enough since she looks up to Logan so much. It’s just luck, I’m afraid. Not talent.”

                “Remy, you’re an Empath. This is natural for you.” Hank spoke bluntly, unsure why the Cajun wouldn’t just take the compliment he was trying to give, or see the benefit in his advice. Remy had been shirking his company for days, and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. It hurt. It gnawed at him in fact, like a tick he couldn’t shake.

                Gambit straightened his back and leveled gazes with the tall, feline-esque Mutant. “Ah, I see. Well, maybe I just don’t want to run de risk, doctor. You know, my empathy is attached to my Charm, and well we both know that can be overwhelming.”

                Hank clamped his mouth shut and looked at the floor. There it was. The elephant in the room. “Remy…I think you misunderstood me before. When I said that, I was…the situation was very stressful and I was afraid—“

                The auburn haired man shrugged. “You don’t have to be afraid for ol’ Remy, Beast. I know myself and I know my power and what it can do.”

                “Absolutely you do.” Hank amended, but he remained stiff, guarded. There was a current of tension running between them, and Remy could feel it boiling under the surface. Hank was frustrated, embarrassed, and other things that he couldn’t quite detect without delving deeper. But he recoiled instead.

                “Well, if you aren’t comfortable speaking with the students, I understand. But I do urge you to reach out for your own sake. I’ve noticed you’ve been far more reclusive lately.”

                He eyed the man, almost suspiciously. Had Hank been watching him?

                “Maybe I t’ink about it.” He started out the door again, but Hank spoke once more, interrupting him.

                “You have friends here, Remy. You needn’t rely on Logan and Ororo solely for support. You can trust us. I know what happened between you was confusing--”

                Remy knew he what he wanted; he’d sensed if from almost the moment McCoy had entered the room. He wanted to talk about what happened with Scott. And part of him knew, deep down, that it came from a good place in Hank’s heart. That he was worried for his friend. But Remy was still angry; and still hurt.

                “Don’t.” Remy said, more curtly than he meant to.

                Hank blinked in surprise at being cut off, and the scowl on the Cajun’s face didn’t help.

                “Just…don’t. I know you got some theory in your head about what happened between me and Scott, and you’re worried. But I’ve gotten less grief about it from dem den I have from any of de rest of you.”

                “Remy, slow down—“

                “What I do and who I do it wit ain’t your concern.”

                McCoy stiffened then, folding his large hands in front of himself. Gambit could feel that he had upset the man. “You’re completely right, Remy. It isn’t.”

                Beast stepped past him, brushing against him lightly as he did so. For a second Remy wanted to reach out and catch his arm and apologize, but pride stopped him. He needed a friend, and he certainly considered Beast one. But he was tired of those same friends judging him for his choices; for things they just didn’t understand.

                Still he groaned once the doctor had vanished down the hall, banging his head against the door frame. “L’enfer…”

                His phone buzzed in his pocket then, catching his attention. He glanced at the contact name and hurriedly answered it, “Ro! Dat you, ma cherie?”

                _“Of course,”_ Ororo answered. _“sorry I didn’t call sooner. Things have been…busy.”_

                “You find our man?”

                _“Yeah, I’ve got ‘im. Had to bail him out of jail of course, but I’ve got him. We’re on the other end of the state, will take us a bit to get home. How’s things there?”_

                “Oh, well as can be I suppose.” He sighed, leaning against the door frame and looking down the hall where Hank had vanished. “Can I talk to him?”

                _“Sure.”_

                There was a brief moment of silence and then Remy heard Logan’s breathing on the other end of the line.

                _“Darlin’. You there?”_

“I’m here. Where are you, asshole?”

                _“North. I’m sorry. Do you hate me?”_

                “Only a little,” Remy answered, wishing he could put his arms around the man. “Come home.”

                _“I am. Have to settle up a few things here, but Ro and I will see you tomorrow night, Thursday morning at the latest.”_

                “D’accord.” Remy sighed. “Stay safe, alright?”

                _“No worries, darlin’. I love you. See you soon.”_

                The call ended and Remy sighed. That was some good news at least. Collecting himself, he started out the door, deciding he’d spent enough of the day moping and that he needed to shake off some of this lethargy, be productive.

                He came downstairs, which opened up at the foot of the common room and kitchen entrances. The noise here was loudest, and Remy could hear familiar voices talking. Particularly that of Bobby Drake’s, whom seemed to be particularly animated that evening.

                The two met eyes briefly and Remy gave little nod, but Bobby just looked away, returning to his conversation. Gambit thought little of it; it was no secret Bobby was struggling with the events, especially Scott’s disappearance.

 He turned away from the group and stepped into eating area and found Jubilee sitting at the kitchen island, eating ice cream. He pulled up a chair next to her, “What’s dat mess you got dere? Chunky Monkey? Ugh. Non, non, petite. Times like dis call for chocolate and caramel.”

The girl pulled an extra spoon out of the silverware drawer and handed it to him. “Be quiet and help me eat this so I don’t get fat.”

Gambit chuckled and scooped up a spoonful, leaning shoulder to shoulder with her as they looked back out at the group in front of them.

“Merde…how many calories is dis?”

She laughed at him. “Who cares! We’ll burn it all off in the Danger Room.”

“Suppose you have a point.” He gave her a little smile, “Got good news. Ro found Logan. Dey on deir way back. Tonight or tomorrow, give or take a few brawls I’m assuming.”

The girl, who had become like a little sister to him, smiled excitedly. “That’s great! I was worried he wouldn’t come back this time. You know?”

“Yeah,” Remy nodded. “Been some debate on whether he should come back, I know. Suppose you know too, you little ease-dropper.”

“The Professor wouldn’t turn him away. He knows it wasn’t his fault. He did it ‘cause he had to. He didn’t want to…” he shoveled another large glob of ice cream in her mouth and Remy put an arm around her.

“S’okay, petite.”

“I know I’m being dumb but…when I came here, and the X-Men took me in…I thought, that was it, ya know? I went from being all on my own, to having this big, loud, crazy family. And I just thought…it would stay that way, you know? I never thought anything bad like this would happen.”

Remy squeezed her a little tighter. Jubilee had a lot of growing up to do yet, and at times it was difficult to watch the world take its pound of flesh from her. But it was evitable, and as much as he wanted to at times, he couldn’t protect her from it. But he could soften the blow.

“I know it feels frightenin’ now, but it will pass. Let de pain remind you to cherish what you have.”

“That’s poetic and morbid of you.”

“Ah well, I tried.”

                There was a round of laughter from the adjacent room that caught their attention then.

                “—well, now that I’m finally an official X-Men,” Bobby quipped, sitting on the back of the couch and looking down at Kitty, Kurt, Rogue, Piotr and Warren, “I guess that means it’s time for me to pick who I’m gonna hook up with first!”

                There was a giggle and a groan from his audience, not to mention some practically audible eye-rolls. “Ugh, gross Bobby. No one wants to hear who’s shorts you want to climb into.” Kitty sighed.

                “Seriously, ew.” Rogue added. “Please don’t elect me to be your first conquest.”

                “Oh come on,” Drake cut in, his voice a little too loud, his tone a little too sharp. He had been drinking, but it was something more than that. “Obviously, that’s one of the main perks of calling yourself an X-Men, right? Or at least it must be, since even the newest members are sleeping their way through the ranks faster than we can change the sheets.” His eyes shifted towards the pair in the kitchen, and Remy raised an eyebrow.

                “Shut up Bobby!” Jubilee yelled at him.  “You’re being stupid. It’s not funny.”

                “Geez, lighten up.” Iceman replied, waving them off.

                “Ignore him,” Gambit mumbled beside her. “He’s just letting off steam.”

                “Hey, Hank!” Bobby called then, his attention turned elsewhere in the room that was not visible from the kitchen. “I’ve got a hypothetical question for ya. Let’s say Wolverine, Storm and well, I guess Cyclops are all out of the picture. Who—logically—do you think Gambit would sleep with next?”

                Beside him, Kitty pelted him with a pillow, but Bobby pushed her back. “What?! I’m just curious! I mean it’s no secret the way Logan made his way through the ranks, I’m just wondering if it’s like a scientific pattern! Personally, my money’s on Kurt here.”

                The blue elf cringed, aghast, gritting his teeth. “Zat isn’t funny, Bobby! I wouldn’t—it’s---“

                “Oh come on, all those accents mixing together? It would be hilarious. I would have said Colossus over here, but I don’t think even Gambit could handle what he’s packing.”

                “That is extremely rude,” Piotr quipped. “Not to mention inappropriate!”

                “You’d better never say that around Wolverine,” Rogue quipped. “He’d kick your ass.”

                “So would Storm.” Kitty added.

                “Whatever…”

                Across the room, Remy said nothing, staring at the counter and the bowl of melting ice cream, refusing to look up and acknowledge them. Jubilee was fuming beside him. “Why is he being such a dick?!”

                “Nevermind it, he’s just—“

                “Angel.” Hank answered.

                Remy’s heart was a little too loud in his ears for a moment as blood rushed through him, causing his face to flush and his chest to burn. He felt like his stomach had dropped somewhere below his ankles.

                Bobby was wide-eyed, laughing, while Warren looked displeased and uncomfortable.

                “Statistically speaking, I mean.” Hank replied, sounding quite serious, which somehow made it worse. “Going simply by my own observations, there seems to be a pattern, and with part of that pattern satisfied by Logan and Ororo’s company, the next logical step would be…Angel. A clean-cut, refined, upstanding type.”

                “Sounds like you know your stuff, Hank.” Bobby snorted, still floored that Hank had even acknowledged, must less answered his query.

                But not nearly as surprised as the rest of the group. Warren shifted in his seat, looking extremely uncomfortable. “I didn’t know I was a _type_.”

                Kitty looked between Bobby and Hank, her cheeks going red as her temper boiled. “Hank! Don’t encourage him! He’s being an asshole!”

                “Language, Katia,” Piotr scolded, and Kitty glared at him.

                “Oh be quiet! Of all people, Hank. I thought Remy was a friend of yours.”

                “So did I.”

                Everyone tensed, eyes suddenly darting to the opposite doorway, where Gambit now stood, hands shoved into his pockets, jaw locked. His eyes slid from Drake to McCoy.

                The doctor’s golden eyes widened and he visibly deflated as he realized that Remy had heard his unkind little jab. Regret and hot embarrassment flooded through him, making his mouth go dry and his face go hot.

                Bobby had no such reaction of shame though, he merely frowned and looked away, refusing for the moment to see that he had wounded the other man. Kurt gave him an angry little slug on the shoulder. “See what you’ve done?” he hissed.

                Piotr stood up, towering above the group. “Now, everyone, please…let’s be level headed about this. Obviously some things were said that were not kind, but I know that they did not wish to cause you pain either.”

                Remy merely shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he nodded to large Russian. “You t’ink dese little whispers, dis ‘high school’ gossip bothers me? Please, mes amis…you gonna slut-shame a man, ya’ll better learn how to do it properly.” He looked harder at Hank. “And have de damn balls ta say it to my face.”

                “Remy, I’m—“

                “Non. Non, too late. Excuse me. Sure there’s some sheets I need to be messing up somewhere.” He turned without another word, leaving the room tense and silent in his wake. That was, until, there came a bright, screaming pop and crackle of light and both Bobby and Hank found themselves accosted by Jubilee’s psionic blasts of light.

                “Hey! Knock it off!” Bobby shouted, shooting a blast of ice at her, which the girl avoided before marching over, grabbing Bobby by his collar and slugging him across the mouth.

                “Jubilee!”

                Bobby groaned from his place on the floor.

                “You big stupid jerk!” the girl shouted. “Just because you’re upset doesn’t give you the right to tear other people down! You’re supposed to be better than that! You’re supposed to be a damn X-Men!”

                She whirled towards Hank then, who still appeared like a deer caught in the headlights. “And you!” she shouted, shaking her finger at him. “What bur is up your butt?! If Logan were here--!”

                “That is enough.”

                Hank blinked as he heard Charles’s voice, and suddenly felt the world around him slow. Blinking, he realized that Jubilee and the others, with the exception of Bobby, who was warily getting to his feet, were all frozen as they were.

                “Charles, I hate this game.” Hank muttered.

                “That’s too bad,” Xavier answered.

                Bobby approached him, looking around as though spooked. “Where is he? What’s going--?”

                “I’m not in the room. I’m upstairs, in my office. The ruckus you’ve caused has disrupted my paperwork. I think it best you both present yourselves, immediately.”

                Hank crinkled his cat-like nose, fur bristling and adjusted his jacket.

                “I know you’re not a child, Hank. It’s too bad you’ve chosen to act like one today.”

                Bobby glanced at McCoy. “Ouch. Burn.”

                “Bobby Drake, I will render you mute for the rest of the day if you don’t exert some control over yourself. Both of you. My office. NOW.”

                A moment later, the rest of the world restarted itself and Jubilee abruptly found herself shouting at thin air. The rest of the room looked around in confusion.

                “Where did zey go?” Kurt blinked.

 

**

 

                Charles was at his desk when they appeared at his door, and he refused to look at either of them as they entered. The door closed itself behind him.

                “I hope you’re both very proud of yourselves. Picking at one of your team mates over petty jealousies.”

                Bobby blinked, first surprised, then confused, glancing at Hank, who shifted uncomfortably.

                “It was a lapse in judgement. Please, Charles, let me find Remy and apologize.”

                “Let cooler heads prevail, my friend. You’re still emotional and so is Mr. LeBeau. I think a little space is more prudent at this moment in time.” He glanced then at Bobby, who had flopped down in one of his arm chairs, looking frustrated.

                “Are you going to sit there and stew all day, Mr. Drake? Cause if that is your intention, you can at least help me with these student files. I have three dozen that require updates.”

                Bobby rolled his eyes. “Professor…I didn’t mean it. I mean…come on. It’s certainly no secret that he’s not shy about sex. He should have tougher skin.”

                “I think perhaps it’s you who need a tougher shell,” the Professor answered. “You say you’re angry at Remy, but really you’re worried about Scott. As are we all. Don’t take your frustrations out on your team mate, because of some imagined slight.”

                “it wasn’t imagined.” Bobby muttered.

                “Yes…I know. You’re angry about that too.”

                Bobby tensed, and Hank looked between them in confusion. “Bobby, your feelings for Scott…” the Professor sighed quietly behind his desk, sinking back into his chair and looking at the younger man the way a worried father might his rebellious teen. “I wish I knew how to guide you. But in this matter, all I can really say is that you can’t expect him to return your feelings if you never express them.”

                “Professor!” Bobby sunk down in his chair.

                Hank folded his arms. “Bobby…oh Bobby, this isn’t like you. How long has this--?”

                “It’s not your business!”

                McCoy put a hand on his shoulder. “Listen to me. It’s only that…you’ve never once mentioned…I guess I’m just surprised is all.”

                “Yeah, I know. He’s too old for me, he’s way out of my league and he treats me like his little brother. How dumb would I be to tell him, or anyone, I mean right? Why would he ever look at me like that? Not when he’s got people like Logan and Remy around. And the hell of it is, is I had no idea he was even fuckin’ gay! Or bi or…whatever. I mean, when he was with Jean it was like, well, there ya go Bobby, you’re crushing on a straight guy, but then whole thing with Logan started and now…” he hung his head. “Oh my god I feel like such an ass.”

                “It’s alright,” Hank said gently.

                Xavier eyed them silently for a moment. “I think maybe it’s best if you both take some time to sort out your feelings before trying to resolve things.”

                “Alright Professor.” Bobby nodded, standing then. “Um…can I go?”

                Xavier nodded, and then glanced to Hank who held his position as Bobby slipped past him towards the door. “Please shut the door on your way out,” Xavier said. “Hank and I won’t be long.”

                Iceman shot McCoy a worried look and then slipped out the door, obviously glad it wasn’t him that was being asked to stay.

                McCoy furrowed his brow at his friend the moment they were alone. “Are you enjoying this? Playing principal?”

                “Headmaster, Henry. And I don’t _play_ at it. It’s my job, as you know very well.”

                “I’m not your student. I haven’t been for some time. We are supposed to be peers. Speak to me like one.”

                “Alright then.” Xavier answered tersely. “That little display downstairs? It reminded me of something all too familiar.”

                “Don’t—“

                “It’s Raven all over again.”

                “Don’t compare apples to oranges,” Beast answered tightly. “I was a dumb kid when I met Raven. I didn’t understand then and I…I said a lot of things I wish I could take back. But you know I can’t. Remy is not like that. I’m not trying to change him, I’m not trying to tell him how he should live—“

                “Aren’t you?”

                “Dammit—“

                “Hank, you care about him. And I’ve only seen that feeling deepen over the last few months. I get it. I do. But you’re trying to deny a part of Remy’s basic nature. You’re trying to deny his flaws and that is only going to lead to trouble.”

                “His Charm is not his fault.”

                “I never said it was. But Charm or not, if Remy is consenting, you shouldn’t be trying to—“

                “You know what happened between him and Scott wasn’t right! How can you call that consensual? If the Phoenix distorted their minds, then—“

                “I have spoken with both of them on that matter. I was just as concerned as you were. But both agree that they were not forced into it, despite the distorted circumstances that brought them there. They both consented to the act.”

                “You have a very loose definition of consent then,” McCoy muttered.

                Here Charles’s eyes darkened. He didn’t speak for a moment, lacing his fingers together as he looked at his old friend across his desk. “I agree with you, that the circumstances are troubling. And I wish desperately that I could have prevented them. I wish that I could have prevented all of this.”

                “But you didn’t.  You kept pushing. You kept it quiet. You thought that she could control it; but you were wrong.” He grit his teeth, trying to fumble his way through the torrent of words in his mind, trying to force them into something coherent, but his emotions were beginning to overwhelm him. “We always knew it wouldn’t be easy, that it would be a fight…but I never imagined…I’m a doctor. And I’m terrified that I won’t be able to mend what’s being broken in us. We lost Jean today, but tomorrow it might be Scott, or Kitty or Bobby or…” he felt his gut clenching as he remembered others whom they had known, long fallen, and still unavenged. “We are supposed to protect them. We let them down.”

                No one spoke for several long seconds, the two men staring at each other across the room. Charles nodded slowly. “No Hank. I let them down. I made…a terrible mistake. And the people I love have suffered deeply for it. Jean is gone. And I can’t bring her back. And that will weigh on me for all the rest of my days.”  He looked bleak then, as if he’d aged another five years.

                McCoy came around the desk then and engulfed the smaller man in a warm, tight embrace. “I’m sorry.”

                Xavier patted his thick arm. “I know, my old friend. I know.”

 

**


	2. Chapter 2

**

 

                Remy didn’t need the shower, but he certainly needed the white noise of it. He needed to drown out his thoughts, his feelings, and anything his Charm might be picking up residually from others. He turned the spray on high so that the water came down with a biting sting on his skin. He braced himself against the wall with both hands. He could feel the tiles soaking up the little sparks of energy that were seeping out of him, causing them to expand and crack.

                Angrily he pounded them with his fists and shouted. “Damn it! DAMN IT! You stupid ass…”

                He was furious with Beast; or rather he wanted to be. He wanted to curse him, to call out his pettiness, to remind him how he had once said he would never judge him. But all the anger retreated instead to himself. Being angry at others hurt too much, and it never solved anything. It was easier to absorb the blame and move on.

                And it wasn’t as if he were blameless in the matter. If he’d had a little more focus, a little more control, he might have managed the situation with Scott better. But self-control had never been his strong suit.

                Maybe Hank knew more than Remy realized; maybe Storm and Logan had said something to him about that night that they hadn’t divulged to Remy. Maybe they were pissed.

                Gambit made himself take a deep breath before his thoughts could spiral any further. This was paranoia and he had to ignore it. Neither of his partners had displayed anything other than concern about the matter, and Remy would have felt if they were lying.

                Eventually he turned the water off, having caught his breath and collected himself and stepped out of the shower to towel off. The community shower was empty, thankfully, and he dressed quickly and quietly, feeling raw and unsettled still but managing to keep his composure.

                He turned towards the door, hoping to slip out of the house then without being noticed, only to find Xavier waiting in the hallway for him. He yelped in surprise and nearly fell back through the door.

                “Jesus Christ!”

                Both men nervously laughed off the reaction.

                “So sorry,” Charles apologized. “I was attempting _not_ to intrude…I suppose it backfired.”

                “It’s fine,” Remy chuckled, avoiding eye contact, though he knew it wouldn’t really do him any good. “Just wasn’t expecting anyone. Least of all you. I always presumed you had your own private bath.” He chuckled.

                “Would you like to talk, Remy? I already know about the common room incident.”

                “Of course you do.” Gambit sighed. “Non, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s not important. T’ings are rough right now, but it will pass.”

                Xavier nodded. “It’s been difficult for you, with your empathic ability. The house must be overwhelming right now.”

                The auburn haired man looked at his new mentor a bit more clearly now. “You didn’t come just to chit-chat, Professor, though I appreciate the concern. What is it I can do?”

                Charles smiled softly. “It’s about Scott. He’s…struggling, and I’m growing more concerned about his safety. But, he has been shutting me out rather insistently, and I fear that I will not be able to draw him from the dark place he’s gone to.”

                Remy looked apprehensive. “I dunno…”

                “He trusts you, Remy. I know that it may seem awkward, given the circumstances, but I truly believe that no one else will be able to help him now.”

                “Why not send Betsy? She can read minds, help him to sort—“

                “It must be you.”

                Gambit let his head fall back with a loud groan. “ _Why_?! Why me, m’sieur?”

                “Because Scott is in pain. And you know that pain too. You know the guilt, the grief, the anger. You can help him to process it. To let him grieve without destroying himself.”

                He chewed his lip, apprehensive and tense. “I want to help…but given what other people already t’ink, it might make t’ings worse.”

                “I understand your fears. I’m asking you to be stronger than them; for the sake of a friend.”

                Gambit eyed him. “Wow. You’re good.”

                The older man waited, looking at him with dimmed hopefulness. And despite the tight control he was holding over his empathy, he could feel how sincerely worried Xavier was, and how helpless he now found himself. He groaned again, knowing he was sunk.

                “Where is he?” Gambit sighed.

 

**

 

                The motel was in Jersey. Remy hadn’t been there in ages, but he still managed to find his way around. Remy easily got Scott’s room number from the lobby; the receptionist was a giggly mess the moment he walked in the door, poor girl.

                It was an upstairs unit, overlooking the court yard and the pool. Remy frowned at the sound of embarrassingly loud sex being had by Scott’s neighbors, the noise only over shadowed by the sound of small children running amuck around the pool side while their lounging mother shouted at them.

                He tapped firmly on the door.  “Scott? You in dere? It’s Remy.”

                No answer.

                Gambit pressed his ear to the door. He could hear the faint drone of the television. Someone was inside. He tapped the door again. “Scott? Sil vous plait, I just want to talk.”

                Again he found himself met with indifferent silence.

                He wasn’t going to be put off that easily, however. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lock-pick, which he jiggled into in the keyhole. A run-down place like this was all too easy. A moment later there was a faint pop and click, and Remy turned the knob easily.

                Peering through a small crack in the door, Remy could make out bits of the dark room. Sheets and blankets were draped off the far corner of the bed, though despite this it looked ill-used. There was a stale smell in the air, like everything had been shut up for days without a breath of fresh air. The television droned on quietly in the background, and Remy could see a slumped figure in a chair next to a small desk, though his back was turned to him.

                “Scott?”

                He pushed the door open the rest of the way, hearing the startling clink of bottles being pushed aside. He looked down to see several empty ones tossed on the floor. It looked like Scott had gone through several six packs.

                Remy cursed softly under his breath and stepped fully into the room, closing the door quickly behind him.

                In the chair across the room, Scott’s head lolled slightly to the side. “What do you want?” his voice was thick and heavy, laced with exhaustion and despondency.  Remy could feel it pelting him even from a distance, how deeply mired in his grief Scott had become. It added to the overall heaviness of the room making it seem suffocating.

                “To talk, dat’s all. Make sure you’re okay…” he paused then, and straightened his shoulders. “I know you’re not okay, Scott. Professor sent me cause he thinks I can help you see a way through this void you’ve sunk into. Not sure dat’s true…but I’ll try if you’ll let me.”

                Scott didn’t say anything, nor did he turn to look at Gambit.  He reached for a bottle that was sitting half empty in front of him, took three heavy gulps from it and then slowly pushed himself up from the chair. He was wearing a thin white t-shirt, which was wrinkled and sticking to him in places, and his lounge pants were in much the same condition. It was obvious he hadn’t changed in several days. His face was pale, haggard. Normally clean shaven, Scott now wore evidence of a five-day old beard, and Gambit could see dark rings beneath the frames of his ruby-quartz glasses.

                “I don’t want your help. I don’t deserve it. Go back, tell Charles to stop pestering me.”

                “He loves you,” Remy replied. “He’s afraid for you, mon ami, we all are.”

                Scott laughed and his guest was started by the harsh, dry sound it made crawling up his throat. “Don’t be afraid for _me_ , Remy. I’m not the one living in the same house as cold blooded killer.”

                Remy didn’t bat an eye at the comment; he had expected it.  “Logan didn’t—“

                “Don’t!” Cyclops snapped. “Don’t say his name to me. Don’t you dare. I don’t care what he is to you, or anyone else. Don’t you say his goddamn name to me.”

                Rage, loathing, despair. Remy let it wash over him, but didn’t yield to it. Instead he channeled it, allowing himself to be drawn in just a bit further, to connect while Scott was still distracted.

                “It hurts so bad…I know it does. It fills up your stomach and lungs, crawls up your throat and burns everything from the inside out. And after awhile, you become so overwhelmed by it that you’re numb. You can’t think. You can’t sleep. It’s just you and that pain, and the only thing that interrupts it are the memories—the should-haves, the would-haves. They’re kindling on the fire you’re already consumed by.”

                Scott didn’t say anything, quietly staring back at Remy.  Gambit detected a tremor in his fingers and slowly reached out and caught them in his. “S’okay. Feel it and let it go. I can help.”

                Cyclops shook his head. “No…I don’t want you to see…”

                Remy pulled him easily and put his arms around him. “You’re alright. It’s going to be alright. Let it go, I’ve got you.”

                He tensed and shook, digging his hands into Gambit’s back and then let out a rough, angry sob and hid his face in his shoulder. His companion shushed him softly, and Scott felt the strange pull of the man’s influence, tapping deeper into his emotional current. He felt a rush, which made him gasp. It felt vaguely familiar, something akin to the way Jean and Xavier had always effortlessly entered his thoughts. But this was different, subtle, more abstract. There was no commanding voice, no pristine memories, no sudden order or chaos in his mind. It was more like fumbling through the dark, unsure of where to go, only to have another hand reach out and grab yours and anchor you.

                Everything that had been boiling inside him for the past week felt like it was being drained away; poison drawn from a wound. The burning inside him fizzled, dimmed and subsided. He could breathe again.

                And the bone-deep tiredness that had been kept at bay by his racing thoughts and the constant pounding of his blood in his ears was felt in full. Scott sagged a little, but Remy held him up easily. “Easy dere,” he chuckled. He helped Scott to the edge of the bed and sat him down.

                “Any better?”

                Summers nodded slowly.  “Yes. Thanks.” He looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “I don’t—what do I do now?”

                “Come home.” Remy answered. “If dat’s what you want.”

                “I don’t know what I want.”

                “Dat’s okay.”

                Scott blinked at him behind his ruby-red lenses. “I know dis is a bit out of your wheel house, but you don’t need a plan right now. All you need to do is heal. And I t’ink…being around de people who care about you is de best t’ing. Cause grieving alone…I’ve done it before. It’s not pleasant.”

                The brunette nodded slowly. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”

                Gambit nodded, noticeably relieved. “Good. But first, I think a shower and a fresh change of clothes is in order.”

                Scott nodded, blushing slightly with embarrassment. “Good idea.” He moved towards the bathroom, but paused and gave his teammate a nervous glance over his shoulder. Gambit smiled, but didn’t look at him directly, already reaching to clean the bottles from the floor.

                He slipped into the white-walled, empty silence of the motel bathroom, and started to strip himself out of his stale clothing, almost groaning with relief as it left his skin. He fumbled into the shower, feeling dazed and dumb.  He turned the water on high and stood in the spray, hoping it would snap him out of his stupor of depression and post-drunkenness.

                Gambit had been able to remove a significant amount of the morose fog in his head, and with the sudden breathing room, his mind began to race with new thoughts, things that had been dampened and pushed down by his despair. Returning to the mansion had seemed impossible before, but now he realized it was the next rational course of action.

                He’d failed Jean, he’d left her alone to face her demons, and he had deeply and greatly over estimated his mentor’s abilities in keeping her safe. That couldn’t happen again; not ever again. His friends, his students needed someone to protect them from the danger standing among them.

                He kept his eyes shut tightly as he scrubbed the grime and dirt from his face and hair, raking his nails down the rest of his body and leaving pale red marks against his skin. The fear and helplessness was seeping back into his core again. He wasn’t strong enough to stop what had happened before. All his training, his dedication, his focus, rendered useless.

                Scott felt his world spinning out again, losing control. He whimpered and clutched his head.

                But this time, something different happened.

                Rather than spiraling into the dark torrent of his own self-doubt, a strange sort of calm washed over him. He stood very still, poised and listening, as if aware of another presence, though he was still alone.

                A new thought brought itself to the forefront.

                _You don’t need to rely on only yourself._

                Scott blinked, feeling startled. This new thought; this new voice in his mind, while surely his own, seemed strange to him. Not because the idea itself wasn’t sound. Scott had always tried to bring his team together, to use each other’s strengths to better themselves. But this was not the same intent. The view was now twisted, turned towards a new perspective of the words.

                He looked through the shower door, fumbling to turn off the water. Beyond the obnoxiously thin walls, he could hear Remy still moving about in the main room, cleaning and collecting. As he stood there, the sounds became clearer and sharper. He could hear each little rustle of his foot steps, each breath, even the sound of Gambit’s steady heartbeat.

                Startled, he reeled back from the trance with a tiny gasp, grasping at the wet tiled wall of the shower. He stood there blinking in confusion, unsure if what he’d just experienced had been real or not. But as he strained to listen again, the sounds had returned to their normal muffled din beyond the running water.

 

                In the room, Remy was stuffing most of the discarded items strewn about the room into the trash, throwing Scott’s few belongings into the mostly unused duffle bag that had been shoved under the bed.  Summers stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, trying to adjust his glasses as they continued to fog from the steam.

                “Sorry about the mess.”

                “Seen worse,” Remy chuckled. “You’ve never had to clean up after a night of binge drinking with twenty-something members of the Thieves Guild.  We’re a clever bunch…but not very tidy.”

                He reached into the duffle bag and tossed Scott the cleanest pieces of clothing he could find. As the Cajun turned away to give him some privacy, Scott studied him silently.

                “Remy?”

                “Mmm? Oui?”

                “How is it you channel other people’s feelings like that? Doesn’t it make you feel just as bad?”

                “It can I suppose, if it’s a very powerful emotion. But it’s more like taking air into your lungs…you can hold a breath for a little while, but eventually you exhale. I take the feelings in, re-channel them and then release.  Sounds more complicated den it is, I suppose.”

                “In the with good air, out with the bad?” Scott teased. He pulled on the rumpled pair of jeans and the old Xavier School sweat shirt he’d been given. “Must be tiring for you then, dealing with someone like him. All that anger all the time, his violent nature—“

                “Stop.” The other man was looking at him very seriously now. “I know how you feel about Logan. And I won’t ask you to forgive or to understand right now. Because I know it’s too much. But I won’t let you tear him down. I love him, and you need to respect dat.”

                “You’re making a mistake.”

                “It’s my mistake to make, mon ami. Let it go.”

                Silence fell between them for a moment, and Scott measured his next words very carefully.

                “For your sake. Not his.”

                Gambit nodded, and let it go at that for now.

 

**

 

                Miles away, an old blue pick-up truck was rattling its way back towards the familiar gates of the Xavier School. The woman in the driver’s seat glanced to the man next to her, who was leaning against the door, one arm perched upon the window, glaring sourly out at the green lawn stretching beyond the gate.

                She reached over and touched his hand, fingers brushing over his knuckles. “It’s going to be fine.” Ororo assured him.

                Logan scoffed quietly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “’Fine’ ain’t a word I would use.” He sunk back in his seat as they started to roll up the long winding drive towards the grand house. “What happens now?”

                “We pick up the pieces, we go back to our lives. The world doesn’t need the X-Men any less than it did before.”

                “Does it?” Wolverine mumbled back. “Things made more sense when I was on my own, Ro. I wasn’t trying to be an example for nobody. How do I look these people in the eye?”

                “Same way you looked me in the eye.” She answered.

                “Yeah…well that was only after ya punched me a few times.” He offered her a smile, his first in days. “You still think this is for the best?”

                She nodded firmly, never wavering in her stern resolve. They pulled up to the garage and slid out of the truck. Things were quiet around them, and though the house had been restored to its former condition—with some noted improvements at Hank’s behest—there was a palpable feeling of disquiet.

                Logan bristled and exhaled loudly through his nose. “You feel that?” he asked the tall, dark woman who came to stand beside him. “Same feelin’ ya get walking through a graveyard sometimes. That sort of breathless, empty feeling.”

                Storm took his hand and lead him up the walk towards the front door. But she couldn’t deny that she felt the same lingering emptiness. But neither of them were strangers to this feeling, and they would both go on to live with it, as they had so many times before.

                They slipped inside, hearing little fuss from the remaining students or staff.

                “I think we should see Charles first,” Ororo said. “He’ll be happy to know you’re back. Then we can find Remy.”

                Logan nodded, but Storm saw that he was distracted. “What is it?”

                The black haired Canadian didn’t answer immediately, choosing instead to take the lead up the stairs, heading towards Xavier’s office. “I don’t smell him.”

                “Remy? He’s probably at the lake—“

                “Not him. Summers. Not a whiff of ‘im, like he ain’t been here in awhile.”

                Storm paused beside him, “It wouldn’t shock me if Scott felt the need to distance himself. Probably the best thing for him.”

                Logan didn’t answer, he just kept moving forward. His eyes darted around doorways and corridors, almost afraid that he would see a familiar face. This was new territory for him. Normally when things went to hell—and they always did—he packed up and moved on, started over somewhere new. But this time things had to be different. What he had built here was worth fighting for.  Remy and Ororo were worth fighting for. Jubilee, Bobby, Rogue, Hank. Everyone.

                Xavier’s door was unlocked, and as Logan peeked inside, he found the Professor sitting by his window, absorbed in one of his books. As they entered, he glanced up at them with a smile. “Welcome home.”

                Logan nodded awkwardly, “Wasn’t sure I would still be welcomed.”

                Xavier closed his book, “A terrible assumption. I would not give up on a valued member of this team so easily. Especially when he is also a dear friend.”

                Ororo bent and kissed Logan’s cheek softly, “I’ll leave you two alone to talk.”

                She slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She had felt her own unease about the situation, but she had pushed it down for her lover’s sake. She felt an uncomfortable tightness in her chest, accentuated by a sort of restlessness that buzzed through her, making her feel anxious and listless.

                Walking along, distracted by her own troubles, she found herself turning the corner and nearly bumping into Hank, who startled at her sudden appearance.

                “Ororo! My you…you scared me! Where did you come from?” he gasped, big hand to his chest.

                The snowy-haired woman blinked up at him, “We only just got back.”

                “We?” Hank adjusted his glasses, “Then you were able to persuade our dear Mr. Howlett to return?”

                She nodded, “Don’t give me so much credit. He wouldn’t just abandon us.” Hank looked away as she pressed on, “Scott’s not here, is he?”

                “No. He hasn’t returned for some time.” The doctor answered. “But Charles has sent Gambit to bring him back.”

                At this Storm looked stunned; “Remy? Why would he send him?”

                Hank didn’t meet her eyes. He looked deeply uncomfortable, wringing his large hands together behind his back. “I suppose he thought that his empathic abilities would allow him a certain amount of leverage with Scott, given his grief-stricken state.”

                She said nothing, but eyed him a little closer. But instead of continuing further, Hank merely leaned in a gave her a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry to cut this short, my dear, but I need to be getting back to my research. I have a video presentation tomorrow that I haven’t begun to prepare for. Excuse me.”

                Ororo watched him go, eyeing him pensively. She didn’t need to be a empath to know that something was wrong with Beast, but it was a mystery she couldn’t take on just at the moment. Her mind was already buzzing and too full.  She needed distraction.

 

**

 

                Eventually, Logan emerged from Xavier’s office. Their long conversation seemed to have drained him somewhat, as he looked more dower and subdued then when he had first arrived. He made his way through the mansion towards the student dorms, and found his way at once to Jubilee’s room. The door was open and he could hear music coming from her stereo.

                She was sitting in the middle of her bed on her computer, and for a moment Logan watched her from the doorway, content to observe her quietly.

                “Hey,” he called finally, and she looked up with a start.

                “Wolvie!”

                The girl rolled off her bed and bounded over to him, putting her arms around his thick frame and pushing her head up under his chin. She was one of the few members that was smaller than him.

                “Aw now you can’t have missed me that much.”

                “I always miss you when you’re gone, stupid. Especially when I’m not sure if you’re going to…”

                He gave her a little squeeze.  “Hey, quit that. I’m here aren’t I?”

                She nodded and pulled back, “You’re alright aren’t you? I mean…” she fumbled, not sure what to say. “What did the Professor say?”

                “A lot of long winded metaphorical stuff. You know how it goes.” He ruffled her hair, “Ain’t seen the Cajun around have ya? Got a lot to apologize for.”

                The girl looked nervously at him then and pulled away, returning to the edge of her bed, where she proceeded to fidget. “Um…he’s not here. I think he went out for some air or something.”

                Logan paused. “Something happen?”

                She toyed with a plush Spider Man doll. “Um…sorta. But you should probably just talk to Remy about it.”

                “That’s a first. You not wanting to dish some gossip. Is Remy ok?”

                She wouldn’t look at him and Logan felt his stomach knot. “Guess I better get it from the source. Thanks anyway, pumpkin.”

                He turned to leave, but she was up and following him quickly, matching his stride. “Where are you going?”

                “To look for the Cajun, where else?”

                “He didn’t do anything wrong you know. It’s just…people have been weird around him since that night.”

                Logan frowned. “That so?”

                They made their way towards the large staircase that lead down to the main foyer, Logan’s feet picking up speed as they descended the stairs at a trot. “Who’s head to I gotta put through a wall?”

                “This is why you should talk to Remy—“

                They reached the curve of the step, looking down fully into the foyer, just in time to see the door open, Gambit and Cyclops stepping inside.

                Their eyes met for a moment, Gambit’s gaze looking relieved at the sight of his lover. Logan’s scowl faded at once seeing that LeBeau was alright. He trotted down the rest of the steps at met him at the foot, where the lankier man swept his arms around him.

                Logan nuzzled him, threading his fingers through his partner’s long hair, “I’m sorry.”

                “Hush up, you’re home, dat’s all I care about right now.” The Cajun answered, pulling back to give him a kiss.

                It was in doing so that Wolverine noticed Scott’s bitter glare from over Remy’s shoulder.

                Neither man spoke, and the tension that filled the air around them was thick and stifling. Gambit put one arm around Logan’s back as he turned to look at Scott.

                “I know you fellas need to chat, but maybe now’s not de best time.”

                “ S’okay, darlin’.” Logan assured. He looked at Scott steadily for a moment. “Sc—“

                The rest of his name was obliterated when Cyclop’s optic blast struck him squarely in the chest with a concentrated beam, flinging Wolverine into the staircase, which splintered and buckled under his weight.

                “NO!”

                Scott moved forward, continuing his assault. They could smell burning fabric, hair and flesh as Logan attempted to escape the blistering, scorching heat of the beam.

                Remy grabbed him and knocked him aside. The beam went wide as Scott stumbled, and missed taking off the top of Remy’s head by less than an inch. Instead it only left a large scorching band across the top of the adjacent stairwell.

                Scott fell the ground, Remy beside him, both panting. “Remy! Remy I’m sorry--!”

                Logan snarled like a lion, having recovered himself, and leapt upon Scott, claws withdrawn. “You wanna dance one-eye!?”

                “STOP IT!” Remy bellowed, hitting both men with a burst of his own energy, making both yelp as tiny kinetic explosions prickled across their skin like hot embers of a sparkler but with more punch, forcing them both to separate.

                Logan looked ready to charge back into the fray, incensed by Scott’s attack, but Remy grappled him around the shoulders. “NO, NO! Enough of this! Someone’s gonna get killed!”

                Scott made to charge, and Logan, on instinct, shoved Gambit hard out of the way.  In doing so, his claws caught the back of his lover’s hand, tearing a wide gash that made him cry out as droplets of blood sprinkled on the ground.

                Instantly, Wolverine halted his movements, turning worriedly to face his lover, who was clutching the bloody wound, teeth grit. “Cajun!”

                Scott shot at Logan, knocking him off his feet with a concentrated blast. But the attack was cut short by a return attack from Jubilee. “Leave him alone!”

                Cylops ignored her, recovering quickly and started to charge, but Remy moved between them, standing over Wolverine protectively, glaring hard at Scott. “STOP!”

                Scott’s movements halted, eyes wide. “Gambit move--!”

“The hell I will!”

 Wolverine’s claws retracted into his hand with a quick “snikt” and both men stood down, the battle at a halt. Logan was up, taking Remy’s injured hand in his worriedly, looking at the blood that smeared it with dismay.

                “Darlin’ I’m so sorry,”

                “It’s not bad,” Remy assured. “Doesn’t even hurt dat much.”

                “I told you,” Scott said. “I told you he can’t be trusted. Who brings a wild animal into their ranks, never knowing when he’ll turn on you? Someone needs to put him down.”

                “Shut your mouth, Slim or—“

                Gambit produced a glowing card from his uninjured hand, scowling at both of them. “Don’ make me use dis, cause I’m sorely tempted.” His eyes shot towards Scott, who stood down, looking contrite, and when Logan tried to put an arm around him, Remy shrugged him off.  

They heard the thunder of footsteps as the other members of the house became aware of the disturbance. The card burned up in Remy’s hand and turned to ash as Ororo, Bobby, Hank, Piotr and Jubilee all arrived anxiously on the scene.

                “What happened to stairs?!” Piotr asked, seemingly genuinely dismayed by the damage to their property—not that it hadn’t been sustained a thousand times before.

                Bobby crinkled his nose in disgust, “Ugh, nevermind that, what smells like burning hair!?”

                Logan grunted, his shirt reduced to charred tatters, his skin still raw and pink as he recovered from the damage dealt by Scott. Bobby moved immediately to Scott’s side, though he glanced worriedly at Wolverine as well. He could not bring himself to look at Remy.

                “You’re back,” he gasped, taking hold of Scott’s arm without thinking. Summers ignored him, staring down Logan, his eyes occasionally drifting to the man beside him.

                “What happened here,” Storm asked, her voice raised with a note of anxiety. “The two of you are back less than five minutes and already brawling like testosterone fueled drunks!”

                “He started it,” Logan muttered, eyes glinting at Scott as Remy attempted to both support him and hold him back at once.

                Storm shot him a look that told him to be quiet and gingerly took Remy’s arm. “That looks like it needs a stitch or two,” she said worriedly, not failing to miss the pained look that passed over Logan’s face as she did. “Better have Hank look at it.”

                McCoy shifted behind them, but Remy ignored him. “I’m fine, cherie.” He mumbled, turning his eyes instead on Scott. “I didn’t bring you back here so you could start a war! I know you’re in pain and you’re angry, but don’t give you a right to attack people, especially when it wasn’t provoked!”

                “You’re right. I’m sorry,” Scott seemed unsteady then, all his vicious, vindictive determination suddenly vanished. He looked again as Remy had found him in that hotel room; utterly lost. “I shouldn’t have overreacted that way, I don’t know why…”

                He looked at the ruined stairs and then again at Logan, this time with far less venom. Beside him, Bobby felt a prickle of heat pass over his skin, causing the man to break out into a sudden cold sweat. “Scott?”

                “I’m fine.” The words were resolute, yet no one, not even Scott, truly believed them.

                “We cool here?”

                Both men nodded in silent agreement, casting sidelong glances at one another afterward.

                “Remy, your hand…”

                Gambit looked down to see that a little puddle of blood had formed on the floor next to him as he continued to bleed. He cursed quietly in French, and Storm took his elbow, leading him back towards Hank. “Go to sick bay, get cleaned up. I have this.”

                Her younger lover nodded and started off, walking stiffly beside Hank as they made their exit. The woman turned back to the rest of the group with an irritated sigh. “I saw this coming; you two the way you are. But it ends here, _right now_. We have to make peace with this. If you’re not ready to—“

                “I’m ready, Ororo.” Scott interrupted. “It won’t happen again.” He looked Logan up and down and the shorter, black haired man snarled at him. Storm gazed into Scott’s eyes with a sort of cool severity that she reserved for moments like this.           “I’m going to hold you to that.”

                He nodded, though there was strange, high flush to his cheeks and she felt, as she stood toe to toe with the man, that something at his very core had changed. He turned away from the group then, still managing to climb the edge of the damaged stair case.  Bobby and Piotr followed him, leaving Storm and Jubilee standing alone with Logan.

                “Somethin’s wrong with ‘im.”

                “He’s _grieving_ ,” his girlfriend sighed with no small amount of annoyance, her exasperation with the situation becoming clearer every moment she stood there. “A man of your experience should understand that he’s vulnerable right now.”

                “You mean volatile.” He corrected. “Scott came after me. I barely opened my mouth before he tried to incinerate me, nearly took the Cajun’s head off when he tried to pull him back. He’s unstable, Ro, somethin’s gotta be done about it.”

                “And you think your claws will help?” there was an uncharacteristic bite in her voice.

                Logan grunted again, looking ashamed and angry. “Wouldn’t have popped ‘em if he didn’t give me a reason to. I was in control, believe it or not. Hurt the Cajun on accident, trying to get him out of Scott’s way…damn things are sharp, I can’t always control it!”

                His face crumpled and Ro knew there was something he was struggling with, but either didn’t know how, or didn’t want to put words to. “Anyway, he got his pot shot at me. Maybe it’s done with and he’ll just go back to hating me in silence.”

                “I wouldn’t exactly call it silence,” Jubilee mumbled, but both adults ignored her.

                Storm sighed heavily, “I’ve got a headache. I’m going into the kitchen for a drink and to think of how we’re going to explain to Charles that the stairs need to be repaired— _again._ I think it best if you get some air, Logan. Head back to the lake house.”

                The feral shook his head. “I’ll get Remy first.”

                She nodded and excused herself, leaving him with Jubilee, who leaned on Logan’s arm, chin on his shoulder. “Never a dull moment with you around, Wolvie.”

                He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t push it, kid. Thanks for the assist back there.”

She kissed his cheek, “Like I was really gonna let you boys have all the action? Though that was scary…never seen Scott fly off the handle like that.”

He bristled, looking about at the damage. “Summers has come after me before, but never like that. I’ve given the guy nothing but grief since I walked through this door but…something felt different. His power felt different.”

                “Scott’s fried you with an optic blast enough for you to know the difference?”

                “You’d be surprised.”

                “Not really,” she added. “He’s kind of like your nemesis. But it isn’t just Scott that’s acting weird, that’s for sure.”

 

**

 

                Remy sat impatiently on the stool, letting Beast clean and stitch the deep gash upon his hand.

                “The blade just clipped one of the larger veins,” Hank mumbled, “Nothing too terribly serious, despite the amount of blood. You may feel some stiffness there for a few days, I would recommend a break from training. No card tricks either,” he attempted a small smile, glancing up at Gambit’s face to search for a reaction. But LeBeau wouldn’t look at him.

                “Remy,” Hank began more quietly. “About earlier,” he tied off the end of the thread and began to bind it with fresh bandages. “What I said was grotesquely out of line.               I have no excuse…I was angry, and I shouldn’t have been.”

                Again the auburn haired man ignored him.

“Remy, please talk to me.”

                “Bobby’s got his reasons for acting out. Don’t make it right, but at least I understand de source. But wit you, I’m at a loss. What gives you de right to strut around, thinkin’ you know how it is my mind works, what makes me tick? Dat you know why I do what I do?”

                “Nothing; that is, I don’t. I don’t have that right at all. I’m just…” and here he grew frustrated, taking his glasses from the bridge of his nose and discarding them on the table top. “It’s no secret you’re reckless. You think with your heart not your head, and your empathic abilities only intensify this. I know it’s not your intention to harm, but I don’t think you quite consider how your impulsiveness affects others.”

                Remy stood up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “Well, maybe you’re right, doc. Maybe I do take too many chances, and maybe I fuck up. But I’d sure rather take the risk, than sit on de sidelines doing nothing.” He looked at Hank hard. “Least I can say I’ve gone after what I wanted. You give up de moment you think the risk is too high. And that’s a sad way to live life, Hank.”

                McCoy’s muscles were taut like violin string. “Is that what you tell yourself when you think about how you ended up with those scars on your stomach?”

                All the color went out of Remy’s face.

                Hank felt as if he had just disassociated from his body. He could not believe he had just said such a cruel thing to someone he cared so deeply for.

                His team mate turned without another word and marched towards the door, and Hank, too stunned by how far things had spiraled out of control, could only sit there and watch, rendered mute by the horror of the situation. Gambit vanished without another word, and only once the doors had closed behind him that Hank found his voice again as he howled in dismay, burying his face in his hands.

               

               

                Remy rushed out the door without fully processing his own movement. His chest felt tight, both with anger, confusion and _hurt_. Hank was better than this, or so he thought. Today was disaster, no one seemed at all like themselves, perhaps least of all Remy himself. His hand throbbed and he felt that same tearful burn in the back of his throat that made him want to scream.

                But he didn’t, of course. He pushed it down, felt it roll inside him, letting the emotion escape him instead through a quick rush of sparks that rippled from his fingertips all the way up to his forearms. Gasping through clenched teeth, Remy let it release with a harsh, stinging pop that heated the air around him in a quick, minor explosion similar to a power surge. The old paisley wallpaper peeled a bit in the wake of it, and the lights above him flickered and the floorboards beneath his feet creaked and groaned, expanding with heat.

                He blinked in the wake, slightly startled by the intensity. His powers had not acted this strongly since his days with Essex, and that thought alone was unnerving.

                “Dammit…”

                “Remy?”

                He looked up, surprised to see Scott approaching him from the other side of the hall. He must have somehow given Bobby and Piotr the slip.  The two surveyed each other in awkward silence a moment, not knowing how volatile the other still might be.

 

                Scott looked him up and down, sensing something strange. He had not seen Gambit’s display of energy first hand, but something in him had been drawn to it. The heat and the sparking pops that still fizzled in the electrified air sent a thrill through him, stirring something unexpected inside.

                And as he looked on at his teammate, that strange feeling that had overcome him in the motel bathroom resurfaced again. For a fraction of a second, it was if he could see through Gambit to his center. A core that was pulsing and alive with an unlimited, barely tapped energy source. It was blinding, luminous, like a sun being born—all that power and potential, somehow impossibly contained in a fragile human shell.

                A hunger twisted inside him, dark and disquieting. Scott felt his pulse pound in his ears and a new intense desire take hold somewhere deep in his subconscious.

               

                Remy snapped his fingers and Scott blinked, suddenly present and himself again, the strange daydream vaporizing like a popped bubble.

                “Something you wanna say?” quipped the other man, looking tired and impatient at the very least.  “Or you trying to come up with some good excuse for acting like a total nut?”

                “I’m sorry.” It came out in a tumble, a rush, as if it had been on the tip of his lips but he had been unable to speak. “I don’t know why I…” he fumbled and took a breath, trying to collect his thoughts. “ I lost control. I couldn’t even think—all I could see was him ripping her apart…”

                He couldn’t catch himself quickly enough, his voice catching a sob that crawled up his throat despite his resistance. His face flushed red and tears rushed down his cheeks, hot and stinging. He tried to smother the feeling down, but it was greater than him. Just thinking of Logan at all brought him to the edge of insanity these days.

                He opened his mouth to speak again, but Remy shook his head and pulled him in his embrace. Given a place to hide his tears, Scott buried his face into the crook of the Cajun’s long neck, gritting his teeth and releasing waves of heaving sobs against the fabric of his leather trench coat. Gambit said nothing, only holding him tightly, but Scott could feel that the empathic link between them had been connected again.

                Like before, Scott felt his rage and pain being drained away from him and he quickly relaxed into the other man’s grip. He found himself grounded once more, safe from being consumed by his ravaged thoughts and emotions. In this strange eye of the storm, he found that he could sense Gambit’s own thoughts and feelings, which seemed as unhappy and torturous as his own had been. But they were separated, as though Scott were in a bubble and Remy was just outside of it.

                “This is weird…what’s happening?”

                Remy exhaled and pulled away, moving Scott at arm’s length in front of him. “Desole…dat was weird for me too.” He tried a smile. “Do you feel any better?”

                “Yeah, I’m fine now…but you look awful. What did you do?”

                “It’s nothing,” the other answered, though his words seemed clumsy and unsure. “Just gave you a bit of breathing room. I know it hurts. It’s going to hurt for a long while I t’ink. Probably best you avoid Logan until you feel more stable.”

                Scott nodded and looked at Remy’s hand remorsefully.

                Gambit withdrew, shoving his hands in his pockets. He knew what the other man was thinking already, “I don’t know about you, but I’m done wit dis day. Gonna go crash, t’ink you ought to do the same, homme. We’ll talk later, okay?”

                “You want to see me later?”

                “You sound surprised.”

                “No, not at all. Later then.”

                Remy nodded and walked away, though he could feel Scott’s eyes on him until he turned the corner.

 

 

                It took Hank a full thirty minutes to collect himself after his horrific blunder. He had never felt so guilty over such poorly used words. But frustration and worry had overwhelmed his better judgement. Now the rift between them had widened, making Hank feel helpless and alone.

                For as much of a logic minded individual as Hank McCoy was known to be, he found it shocking how his heart could overwhelm his head. It didn’t happen often, but when it did it manifested within him like a form of madness that could not be relieved until it’s desires were met. Hank had felt this most deeply and prominently with Logan during their brief affair, though his deepest feelings did not surface until after it had ended. They lingered still, paining him each day.

                His feelings for Ororo were different, an affection that was steady and constant. At least here he found some common ground, some comfort from his loneliness. But he was never sure how far to go with Ororo, and he erred on the side of caution, not daring to risk losing her as he had lost Wolverine.

                And Remy was a puzzle all his own. His affection for the younger man was almost instant, but he had never put much thought to it. At least not until Remy had shared some of the more intimate details of his life with him. Hank craved and coveted that kind of emotional intimacy, and for Remy to offer it up without a moment’s hesitation had put him in an absolute tailspin.

                And so he found himself in a quagmire of unrequited feelings for not one, but three different people. Three people, who were all rather happily intertwined in their own relationship.

                “I must be utterly insane…” he muttered to himself, sitting miserably at his desk, head in hand, looking at his paperwork blankly. “Every time I open my mouth I sound like a jealous fool. Is that what I’ve sunk to?”

                There was a knock on the door and before Hank could answer it, it opened, allowing Logan to step inside. “Hey Big Blue,” the short, black haired man greeted with a surprising amount of affection. Hank lifted his head hurriedly, tense and stiff. “Rems still here somewhere?”

                “No,” McCoy answered, “He left a short while ago. You haven’t seen him?”

                Logan shoved his hands inside the pockets of his leather jacket, frowning as he gazed across the room. “No. Think I might be in the doghouse with him after that spat in the foyer.” He jaw tightened. “Seems like I can’t do nothin’ right lately.”

                “I know exactly how you feel.” Hank answered.

                Logan looked at him curiously. “What’s that?”

                “Nothing,” He stood up from his chair and approached the smaller man. “I’m sure Remy isn’t angry with you. It was an accident, and the wound was minor. I do believe, however, he is feeling very overwhelmed with the state of things in the house. This tragedy…it’s not brought out the best in us.”

                He nodded mutely, and then Hank spoke again, looking at his guest more closely. “And as for yourself? You seem to have healed cleanly enough from Scott’s attack. I’m glad to see it didn’t have a lethal affect. Even if you would have expired only temporarily, I don’t think my heart could have managed it.”

                Logan gave him a rare, soft smile and Hank felt himself twinge inside. “No worries about me, Beasty. One-eye kind of deserved to take that shot at me. I’ve been in his shoes. That pain is something you don’t shake easily.”

                “It was out of line.”

                Wolverine nodded thoughtfully but said no more on the matter. “Better find Remy. I owe him a lot of apologizes.”

                Hank nodded and made to turn back to his work as his companion moved towards the door. But Logan added, over his shoulder, “I don’t know how you ever put up with a guy like me, Hank. You must be some kind of saint.”

                McCoy dropped his pen and stared, refusing to look back at Wolverine who made his way out the door without waiting for reply. In the aftermath Hank felt winded, and there was absolutely nothing for it. He put his head in his hands let out a low, dry sob.

 

**


	3. Chapter 3

 

**

 

                The day came to a close without further incident, which was a relief to all. The trio found themselves once again back in the lake house, attempting to fall back into their old routines. It was somewhat of a forced effort however.

                Tired as he looked, Gambit insisted on cooking for the group, needing something pleasant to focus on. Logan was helping him where he could, though most of the time Gambit shooed him away from the food, muttering in French about how things had to be just so.

                His lover drank and watched him quietly, trying here and there to offer a bit of affection. A touch of a hand, tucking a stray hair behind his ear, a quick brush against his back.  Gambit was receptive and warm, but there was still an air of hesitation about him that worried Logan.

                As LeBeau labored over the sautéing steak and vegetables inside the skillet before him, Howlett stole up behind him and wrapped a hand around his waist, pressing a kiss between at the back of his neck. “How long till supper, darlin’? That smell is making my mouth water.” He smiled and added, “though, I think maybe you smell even better.”

                Remy laid his hand over Logan’s rough one across his waist. “Patience, cher. Just a moment more, unless you like your meat tough.”

                There was a rustling behind them that made them both look back. Ororo was pushing the furniture of the front room around, attempting to rearrange. It was her fifth attempt, and she seemed no closer to being satisfied with the arrangement.

                In truth, the woman had been restless since they had returned to the house and could not seem to sit still for the life of her. Both men gave her a troubled glance.

                “Stormy? I t’ink if you dat unhappy wit the furniture, we should just get a new set. Sure Charles has spares in the storage basement somewhere.”

                “No, no, it’s fine.” She called back, pushing her hair out of her face. She looked at both of them with bright eyes and a brighter smile. “Just wanted to see what it would look like. Dinner smells delicious, can I set the table?”

                “Sure.”

                She grabbed plates and silverware, and then grabbed a large bottle of red wine from the rack on the counter as well. It was an older bottle, one Logan had bought her as a gift. He raised an eyebrow.

                “What’s the occasion?”

                She grinned back at them. “We’re home. What better occasion is there?”

                They chuckled, “Well, nice to see someone in good spirits.” Remy nodded, finally putting the food on a serving platter and moving towards the dining table at the back of open front room, which was tucked under the overhanging loft and opened onto the wide deck above the lake.

                Storm poured them all hefty glasses as they sat down, and she began to sip her hastily without sitting down herself. Both noticed the way her fingers drummed listlessly on the table top.

                “Darlin’?” Logan asked. “You didn’t drink some of that experimental expresso Hank makes for himself did ya?”

                She laughed and ruffled his hair. “No, sweetheart. I’m just happy.” She leaned over him and captured him in a kiss, surprising him as he felt her tongue slide past his lips to his caress his, letting him taste the liquor that lingered there.

                Gambit stared at them across the table, the meal suddenly forgotten. “Ma cherie?”

                She opened an eye and peeked at him, giving him a little wink before finally pulling away, lips wet and looking at him hungrily. “Come here.”

                Remy moved around the table and let her pull him into the same intense kiss she had offered Logan, wrapping her arms around his neck. She rolled her hips up against his, earning a little moan from the Cajun.

                Beside them Logan watched, fascinated, his own eyes going darker as he became aroused by the heated woman next to him.

                Remy pulled back with some effort, breathing heavy. “Dieu…” he smiled, face flushed.

                She nuzzled him and pulled Logan against them, “Think we could let dinner wait a little while?”

                Both men nodded, and let her lead them upstairs. She was naked within a minute of entering their bedroom, turning and seating herself on the edge of the bed.  Logan was tugging himself out of his jeans and shirt, but Remy had stalled in the doorway.

                His excitement had faded the moment he entered the room and he realized that last time he had lain in that bed, it had been with neither of his partners. Logan, stripped to his briefs, had already moved towards Storm, dropping down on his knees on the floor in front of her, nudging her legs apart as he began kissing up along her thighs.

                She sighed happily, taking a grip on his dark bushy hair. But then her eyes swept back to Gambit.

                “Are you going to join us, love? Or do you just want to watch?” she tugged Logan’s hair lightly and he moved further between her legs, licking her softly and making her face flush dark pink.

                Remy gulped quietly. Ororo was sending out powerful, lustful signals that would have normally have put Remy on his knees. But as enticing as the sight was before him, he could not shake the guilt that filled him.

                “Let’s move to the guest room,” he offered softly. “Change of pace?”

                Storm chuckled and then gasped and sighed, enraptured by the way Logan making love to her with his mouth. She hooked a leg over his shoulder and beckoned Remy closer with her finger. “Don’t be silly…come here. I want to kiss you again.”

                Gambit started forward, feeling his heart racing. He slipped his shirt off and started to undo the fly of his jeans, but the image of Scott burst bright across his mind and he stopped again.

                This time Logan noticed the hesitation and paused, glancing back over his shoulder at his partner. “Darlin? What’s wrong?”

                “Desole,” Remy mumbled. “You two go on. I don’t t’ink I’m up for dis.”

                “Remy?” Logan looked worried, but Storm tugged him back, eager to be finished. “Are you sure?”

                “Oui. Go on, don’t keep de lady waiting.” He added, trying to sound jovial and quietly left the room, returning to the lower level of the house.

                He made his way over to the table of forgotten food, which was already cooling, grabbed his wine glass and downed it in three large gulps before pouring himself another. In doing so, his ears picked up on the distinct sound of Ro’s raptured, enthralled cries and the slight squeak of the mattress.

                Again his heart pounded and he felt an unsatisfied ache in his groin, his own half-hard arousal pushing uncomfortable against the confines of his jeans. Maybe he was being silly. Wasn’t he the one who had been adamantly arguing again and again that what happened there with Scott meant nothing? That they all needed to let it go and move on? So why did he suddenly find himself as fixated on the event as others seemed to be?

                Could it be that Bobby might very well be right about him, and Hank too? His hand ghosted over the scars across his abdomen, which he looked at mournfully. He felt soiled and disgusting.

                He must have stood there longer than he realized, because suddenly he heard Logan’s familiar heavy footstep behind him and felt his thick naked arms wrap around him from behind. “You alright, Rems?”

                “Yes.” Gambit exhaled shakily, licking his lips and blinking up at the ceiling. Logan was so warm and comforting against him. He wanted to fall back into that embrace and stay there forever, enveloped and safe.

“I love you, darlin.”

                “I love you too.”

                One of his hands moved slightly lower over the smooth skin right above Remy’s groin, resting there for a moment, waiting for permission.

                “What about Ro?”

                Logan didn’t answer, pressing kisses across his shoulder blades and spine instead. Remy put his hand over his and let down his guard, opening his connection with his partner. And Logan did the same, the two giving up all pretense immediately. Remy practically wept with relief at the wave of warmth and comfort that Logan filled him with. He should have known better than to doubt.

                At the same time, Logan got a heavy dose of Remy’s own feelings. His insecurities, how overwhelmed and exhausted he was by the negative energies surrounding him. There was something else there, a fresh sort of hurt and anger that was directed at a new source, though he couldn’t quite decipher whom or what. He endured these for a moment, holding his lover tighter as a result. “It’s alright now. I got ya.”

Remy sighed and leaned back to kiss him, letting Logan slip his hand lower at last, rubbing him through the fabric of his jeans and making him moan and squirm. The feral slipped his hand beneath the waistband of his pants, gripping him directly and Remy moaned loudly, underestimating how good it felt to be touched by the man he loved so much.

After a few moments of this, and the feel of Logan’s thick cock pushed against the back of his thigh, Remy couldn’t resist anymore. He let Wolverine yank his jeans down to his knees, then let himself be bent over the table, feeling Logan’s thick fingers teasing him.

“Need to grab something, hold tight?” he asked, leaning over Remy’s back and kissing his neck and shoulders. Gambit whimpered and pushed back against him. “Not gonna last…”

“Darlin’ you’re too tight, it’s gonna hurt.”

He looked over his shoulder at the man, pleading, and Logan understood. He did his best to slick fingers up thoroughly, taking his time to stretch Remy, while the Cajun fondled himself with one hand, the other braced on the table for support. One digit became two, and then three. Gambit groaned and shivered at the third addition, and his lover kept a steady hand on his hip. “Fast…please go fast,”

Logan growled softly at the request, picking up speed cautiously, grinding himself against the leaner man to gain some relief from his own arousal.

Remy squirmed, face flushed, rocking back against his hand. “Logan fuck me, just fuck me!”

Wolverine growled again, leaning over him more firmly, pressing his head down, “If you want fucked, we do it right. Understand?”

Panting, the redhead finally conceded, and Logan left him shivering there for a moment to grab lube from the drawer in the downstairs bathroom. He returned quickly, but instead of taking Remy where he was, tugged him up and moved him over to couch, putting him on his back and pushing his hip up, making sure they were both slick before positioning himself against him.

Remy groaned and arched as the man sunk fully into him in one heavy push. Wolverine rasped for air, feeling the man all to familiarly tight and hot around him.

“Don’t hold back cher,” the man beneath him spoke again, though the words were a bit more labored now.

Logan nodded, pulled back to the tip and slammed forward into him again, making Remy shout and arch again. He held the man’s legs, allowing him no leverage, and repeated the action slowly again, then gradually faster, and deeper, pushing yelps and screams out of LeBeau each time. The pace was bruising and erratic, and Logan knew it hurt, but each time he tried to slow down the man beneath him would beg for more.

He knew that his lover had a taste for rough sex, but this seemed strange for the occasion. He felt himself nearing release, thighs tense and shaking, sweat developing on his skin. He looked down and was almost surprised to see that Remy was watching him intently with those large unearthly eyes, mouth open and cheeks red.

Remy’s breath hitched and his eyes widened and darkened at the same time, and Logan felt him clench around him as orgasm struck. He emptied, splattering across his own chest and stomach, rasping for air but refusing to take his eyes off Logan’s.

It was too much.

Logan groaned and pushed deep, hips stuttering as he finished abruptly. “Remy! Jesus god…oh darlin you feel so damn good!”

He sunk back then, catching his breath, easing himself out of the man and letting his hips fall back onto his thighs. Remy was sweaty and bruised beneath him, thighs still twitching from the tension.

“Holy shit, Cajun…” the feral rasped, pushing back his sweaty hair.  “Those eyes of yours...sometimes I wonder if you know what you do to me.” He chuckled and crawled up him to kiss him sweetly. “Alright there, darlin? Didn’t overdo it, did I?”

Remy’s thighs bore his fingerprints, but the marks were not damaging or deep and would fade before tomorrow.

His mate didn’t seem to have the energy to answer, finally closing his eyes and nodding faintly. Logan kissed his lips again, then moved down, licking his flushed skin clean, feeling the way his pulse fluttered under his rib cage.

Remy’s shaky palm came across the nape of his neck, massaging it lightly. “Cher…you’re too good to me.”

He didn’t reply, but eased himself down beside the man so that they could lay face to face, coiled around each other. Only once they had both regained some of their strength and composure did Logan voice his concern.

“Any reason ya wanted me all to yerself this time?”

“Non…just seemed like Stormy needed your full attention. And I wouldn’t begrudge her that. Surprised she didn’t come down to join us.”

“I tired her out finally, I think. Least I hope. She’s been off since we got home.” He looked Remy in the eye again, moving his hair from his face to see him better. “So have you, come to think of it. What spooked you upstairs?”

A heavy sigh on the southerner’s part. “Don’t make me say it, cher.” He lowered his eyes. “Been reminded enough of my mistakes today.”

Logan nuzzled him, pulling him closer. “Is that what’s got you wanting to be punished?”

Remy’s face went red with embarrassment, but Logan didn’t look away. “Darlin, you did nothing wrong. None of that was your fault. And if anyone says otherwise, they’re gonna have me to deal with.”

“Can’t help it. I know what I am, _how_ I am. So does everyone else. You de only one who don’t seem to mind…”

Logan kissed him firmly, “Fuck them. They don’t know shit.”

Remy chuckled. “Always a way wit words.”

They pried themselves apart eventually, finding their clothes and making for the upstairs to check on Storm, who had been suspiciously quiet during their love making.

Logan expected to find their other partner resting and sated after their quick but intense session, which had left her seemingly subdued before he left to check on Gambit. But the scene they returned to spoke otherwise.

Ororo was now tearing apart their closet, seemingly searching for something important.

“Ro?”

“You boys finish already?” she hummed cheerily without looking up at either of them.

“Somethin’ you’re missing?” Remy asked.

She waved him off, and they realized the woman hadn’t even bothered to re-dress, but was digging through the closet in just her panties. “Not at all. Just a bit of organizing.”

The two men cast curious glances at each other.

“Um, cherie, sure you’re feeling alright?”

She forgot about the heap of half-sorted clothes on the floor in front of her and went over to them, putting her arms around both and giving them both a warm kiss on the cheek.  “I’m…fine. I think the tension from this morning’s…incident has been getting to me a bit.” She admitted, looking somewhat sheepish. “Please, don’t worry it. I’m just glad we’re all back where we belong.”

They nodded, gratefully agreeing.

 

**

 

                Scott tossed and turned listlessly in his bed that night. Despite feeling exhausted during the day, the night brought no relief. He could not quiet his mind enough to rest. He was haunted by the same familiar terrors he’d endured for the last few weeks; playing Jean’s last moments over and over in his mind like a loop, dissecting each moment again and again, trying to convince himself that he could have done something to save her.

                But new thoughts had appeared to break the cycle that night.

                Thoughts about Gambit.

                He sat up with a heavy sigh, finally giving up on the idea of the sleep for the night. He ached and wished he could feel that same deep sense of relief he felt when LeBeau had held him. It was truly the only time he had been able to breathe or think clearly in days.

                And then his thoughts shifted again and Scott felt himself lose focus again. It wasn’t just Gambit’s empathy that had suddenly captivated his attention. The energy source he had sensed in him, the vastness of it seemed to call him to like a moth to a flame.

                How powerful would he be if somehow he were able to tap more deeply into its source? The things that Gambit could accomplish with such abilities…

                Scott flinched, folding in on himself, head in his hands. These thoughts were not his; this he was slowly becoming aware of and it terrified him.

                “Stop it…” he muttered into the dark. “You’re not making any sense. What does it matter how powerful he is? It hasn’t done him any favors.”

                _Not unlike yourself._

                He kicked the blankets off and fumbled around until he found an old hooded sweatshirt to pull over his naked torso. He padded to the door of his room and made his way out into the hall without much thought, wandering down the dark, quiet halls.

                “Guess that’s something we have in common,” he chuckled to himself. “Besides falling for people who are wrong for us in every way.”

                _Perhaps you can change that._

                “What?” Scott scoffed.

                _You’ve spent your whole life trying to push down your abilities, your desires, doing your best to be always in control. To appear normal. Maybe you were never meant for that._

                Scott felt himself become unsettled again and paused, looking up for the first time to find himself standing at the door of the Danger Room.

                “This is dangerous.”

                _Exactly. So there can be no more hesitations; no more doubt. Don’t you think you’ve lived long enough with those things? Trust yourself, for once._

                There was no sound, just the pounding of his heartbeat in the silence of the threshold. Scott released a shaky breath and entered his access code, stepping inside. Without bothering to suit up, he entered the training room.

                The lights flickered on, and he heard Danger’s computerized voice greet him.

                _“Scott Summers; this is an unscheduled activation. How may I assist?”_

                “Computer, activate personal training sequence; Code Name: Cyclops. Level 5.”

                _“Training sequence activated. Standby.”_

                Scott stood still as the holographic projectors came on line, and the large empty dome became a an industrial, urban landscape complete with several enemies; Mystique and Rictor, in addition to a mob of MRD combatants.

                Scott fell easily into defensive mode, using his optic blast to take out a large chunk of pavement just in front of the advancing swat team, rendering it impossible for them to get any closer. They instead fell back on their gas canons and long-range rifles.

                But the shots were easy to avoid, even in the narrow city streets, and Scott was able to evaporate the smoke with another blast.  But he was far from safe; Rictor was already showing his strongest hand; causing a tremor that nearly knocked Scott on his ass and threatened to topple the high rise buildings surrounding them. The pavement cracked and split, water and gas pipes erupted beneath them, making it difficult to find the high ground.

                In the chaos he had lost sight of Mystique, who announced herself quickly by appearing behind him and delivering a painful kick to his back that sent him rolling forward.

                She came at him relentlessly; and Scott struggled to remember his hand-to-hand training.

                _Why_ _are you holding back?_

                Raven struck him hard across the face and Scott groaned, feeling his jaw throb, but he managed to land a few blows of his own this time, forcing the woman back.

                “I’m not!” he answered himself.

                _You’re not using your full abilities. You are stronger than her. This should be an easy win._

                “I’m a long distance fighter…hand to hand has always been—“ another termer interrupted his response, throwing him to the ground as he went rolling and flipping towards an opening sink hole.

                Pavement ripped at his exposed skin, tearing the thin fabric of his sweatpants and hoodie. The ground around him continued to shake violently and he found he could not get his feet, the street beneath him turning into a slope, opening into a jagged chasm of broken concrete and pipe.

                Scott managed grab a bit of ruined sidewalk just in time to keep himself from falling. He struggled to pull himself to safety, but just as he did, Raven was on him again. She delivered a swift, brutal kick to his face that knocked his visor free.

                Scott shouted and tried to keep his grip while also keeping his eyes shut tight.

                _Stop holding back! Stop being weak!_

                He grit his teeth, feeling his fingers slipping. Raven set her heel down hard on one and he cried out again.

                _“Potential for serious injury has exceeded safety protocols. Termination of session recommended.”_ Danger’s voice chimed over the creak of steel and concrete and crumbling pavement.

                “No…” Scott hissed.

                He opened his eyes, staring Mystique right in the face. He saw her for only a second, catching the look of shock and surprise that spread across her features before she was disintegrated in a brilliant, fiery flash of red.

                With a howl, Scott pulled himself up, and once he had regained his feet, reached for his fallen visor. He slipped it on, blinking as his eyes adjusted. He heard gun fire getting closer to him, heard the twang of bullets that missed him by inches ricocheting around him.

                He felt that same boiling rage overtake him again, and without another thought, he focused his gaze on Rictor, and took aim.

                The other Mutant attempted to dodge the blow, but Scott sent such a concentrated, precise beam at him that it cut through the man like a knife, sending him to the ground smoking.

                Cyclops felt a horrible thrill go through him, and for a moment he remained rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do now.  It didn’t matter that it was only a simulation—he had never killed one of his opponents before, not even in training. It went against everything Xavier had ever taught him.

                Another fire-bright spark of anger filled his head.

                Xavier. His father-figure. His mentor. The man who had shaped him into this…useless figure-head, his poster child for the Mutant race. The man who pushed Jean beyond her limits, all the while demanding he under-utilize his own. The same man who had quietly undermined him by letting people like Logan into their home, their life…

                _Let it go Scott. Let it burn._

                Scott screamed, opening up the full force of his optic blast as he yanked his visor free, and letting the heat wipe the landscape free of his enemies. In under a minute, the ruined street in front of him was rendered a silent, smoking and blistered crater.

                A wave of dizziness overcame him and Scott felt himself falling before he could catch himself. He hit the ground, panting and sweating, his visor falling free from his hand. His vision swam and became dark, but he wasn’t fully unconscious.

                _You’ll be alright now, Scott. We’ll show you what you need to do._

                His brow furrowed as he laid there, numb and unable to move. The shadowed voice inside his head had taken on a slightly different tone, one that was more familiar…

                “Jean?”

 

                “Scott?!”

                Someone was shaking him, and he felt a cold hand on his cheek. “Scott! Scott! Oh my God—“

                Cyclops opened his eyes, though he couldn’t quite focus his vision. Everything was faintly blurry and dark still.

                There was a yelp and the body that had been perched over his suddenly leapt away.

                “Holy shit man! Close your eyes! Your visor--!”

                “Bobby?” Scott croaked.

                “Y-yeah. Yeah, it’s me. Hey, just keep your eyes closed, I’ll help you put your glasses on just…don’t barbeque me, ok?”

                The words struck Scott as odd, though he couldn’t quite remember why. He felt Bobby place the visor back over his eyes, his cool hands lingering a moment before pulling back. Scott blinked cautiously, and found his vision was still slightly blurry. But he could make out Bobby’s concerned face looking back at him.

                “Hey…you okay?”

                “Mmm?”

                The smaller blonde got his arms under Scott’s torso and pulled him up slowly. “What happened? Some sort of malfunction? Hank is on his way…”

                Scott’s head lolled and rested on Bobby’s shoulder and for a moment the younger man paused, breathless. He glanced over at the face so close to his and felt his stomach flutter. He pulled Scott in closer, settling on the floor again.

                “Bobby…how did I get here?”

                Ice Man felt himself tense further. “You don’t know?”

                Scott didn’t answer; he seemed too exhausted to speak. A moment later the battered doors—which Bobby had frozen and punched his way through to reach Cyclops—were pushed open further as Hank rushed in.

                “What in heaven’s name?!”

                Bobby looked nervously up at the large blue-furred Mutant. “I don’t know, I just heard the alarm sounding off and the door was stuck…he was like this when I got inside.”

                Hank dropped beside them, hurriedly checking Scott’s vitals. Bobby’s attention turned then to something he had just noticed. The wall in front of had been heavily charred and burned—something very out of the ordinary for even an intense Danger Room session.

                “Hank look,”

                McCoy turned his attentions away from his downed teammate and stared, open-mouthed at the charred and blackened wall beyond them. “Alright then,” he scooped Scott out of Bobby’s hands. “Most unsettling. Bobby, I think it best you don’t mention this to anyone, at least until I’ve had a chance to look Scott over. Can you do that for me?”

                “Sure,” the younger man nodded dumbly, feeling dazed by the whole thing.

                “What about the Professor though?”

                “I’m sure he already knows.”

 

***

 

                It didn’t take Scott long to stabilize, and by the time Hank had finished his complete examination, the man was fully conscious again.

                “Scott? Can you hear me alright?”

                Summers frowned, feeling tired and annoyed. “I hear you fine, Hank.” He sat up, only to feel Bobby’s hand coil quickly around his arm. He turned in surprise towards him, and his younger teammate flushed pink under his scrutiny.

                “Sorry, just didn’t want to you to pass out again. Sitting up so fast…”

                Scott rubbed his head, feeling a deep dull ache that seemed to be radiating at the back of his eyes.

                “Can you tell us what happened?”

                He shook his head slowly. “No…sorry. It’s a bit of a blur. I couldn’t sleep so  I went for a walk…next thing I know Bobby’s scaping me off the floor of the Danger Room.”

                “Sleep walking?” Ice Man guessed, looking to Hank to confirm. McCoy was pulling himself closer to his patient, peering with his tiny flash light through the protective lenses of Scott’s visor to see his eyes better. The other man flinched and hissed at the light, trying to draw away from it.

                “Are you experiencing a headache of any kind?”

                “Yeah,” Scott grunted. He fingered the ear pieces of his visor. “and I know I’m going to sound crazy…but I think it’s this.”

                Hank paused for a moment, and then put down his flashlight. “Bobby, I need you to give us a little space.”

                Drake looked reluctant, but eventually complied, moving to the back of the small observation room. Beast turned back to the man on the gurney, “Alright, Scott. I’m going to do a little test. I’m going to remove your visor. I want you to keep your head level and open your eyes—just a crack! Don’t look to the side or anywhere but straight ahead. I can fix a wall if you damage it, but I don’t fancy having all my fur burned off. Do you understand?”

                Scott nodded nervously and did as directed, anxiously licking his lips as he attempted to peek at the wall in front of him. He was sure as soon as he did, his optic beam would overwhelm and probably destroy a good six foot swatch of Hank’s lab. At least, that would be the case normally.

                But as he opened his eyelids, he found that nothing came forth. His vision was still blurry, but not nearly as severe. Startled, he blinked fully and heard both Hank and Bobby push themselves father away from him.

                He gripped the bed below him in fear…but there was no eruption of red light.

                “Holy shit,” he heard Bobby curse quietly. His eyes flickered towards the sound instinctively and Drake jumped in response, making Scott close his eyes hurriedly again. “I’m sorry!” he gasped. “It’s okay, I think. Hank is it okay?”

                “Keep your eyes closed,” the doctor commanded, Scott felt him press something that felt like a thermometer wand over his temple, resting close to his eye socket. The tiny device, something Hank had invented himself of course, beeped and stuttered as Hank watched it closely.

                “Scott, I want you rest here tonight under observation. I’m getting a lot of abnormal readings in your brain activity.”

                “But he’s alright isn’t he? I mean…he’s not like, going to have an aneurism or something? Right?”

                “Bobby, I’m fine. Just go to back to bed.”

                The younger man deflated under the dismissive comment, folding his arms across his chest. “Fine. Sure. Get some rest, okay?”

                Scott nodded, letting Hank help him lay back again. He waited until he heard Bobby’s footsteps fade before he turned his head, eyes still closed, in Hank’s direction. “Should I be worried?”

                “Too soon to tell,” he answered honestly. “Try to rest. I can give you a light sedative if that helps.”

                The lean brunette considered for a moment and then nodded mutely. Hank lifted himself from his stool just as Charles entered the room, looking composed but concerned. He and Hank exchanged silent glances before Xavier moved cautiously to the other man’s beside. He slipped his hand over’s Scott’s and gave it a small squeeze.

                “Professor?”

                “It’s alright. We’ll get this sorted out.”

                His student made no effort to answer him, and he turned his attentions back to McCoy, who was preparing a syringe.

                “The damage isn’t serious I hope.”

                “Not as serious as it could have been,” Hank replied absently, “though he seems to have suffered some short term memory loss, and there seems to be some abnormal activity with his optic nerves…I need to do more tests.”

                “Sounds simple enough.”

                Hank emptied the syringe into Scott’s I.V. line and Scott squirmed faintly as it filled him with a warm, tingly feeling that sunk into his muscles immediately, making feel too heavy to move. His body submitted to the drug quickly, but his mind remained awake, fighting off the effects as long as it could, listening to the two men above him.

                “You have no idea how he ended up in the Danger Room?”

                “None. He doesn’t remember anything.”

                Xavier’s hand moved from Scott’s hand to his forehead, and the paralyzed man below him felt the familiar, unsettling sensation of the telepath entering his mind. Charles was churning through his memories like a flip-book, trying to piece together Scott’s thoughts and motives.

                Scott railed against the intrusion, body tensing below Charles’s hand, heart-rate spiking.

                _“Stop it! You can’t just—“_

_“Scott, it’s alright, I only want to help.”_

_“I DON’T WANT YOUR HELP.”_

Charles tried to persist, but he felt himself suddenly overwhelmed by a far more powerful psychic presence than his own. Standing in Scott’s mindscape, staring down the other man, who met him with such aggression, he felt a sudden sweeping presence rush towards him.

                Xavier tried to brace himself, tried to see this anomaly for what it was, but instead he was overwhelmed with Scott’s anger, and it scorched him. _“GET OUT!”_

“Charles stop!”

                Hank’s thick hands were on his shoulders, pulling him and his chair away from Scott. Xavier sat, momentarily stunned and winded.

                “Stop! Whatever you’re trying to do, it’s only making things worse right now. Let him be, let him rest.”

                Xavier looked pale, but had gathered himself enough to nod in agreement.

 

***


	4. Chapter 4

 

                Logan had slept hard that night—the first good night’s sleep he’d had in weeks. Upon waking, he realized that he had slept late—the sun was already up and the clock beside the bed read 9:30 a.m. An unusual hour for the feral to still be resting.

                Even more strange was that he found himself in an empty bed. Both Remy and Ro seemed to have dressed gotten on with their morning without him. The shorter man stretched and grunted, shuffling out of the sheets and disappearing into the bathroom to splash some water on his face and hair.

                Once clean—or clean enough—he pulled on fresh clothes and made for downstairs. “Ro? Rems? Why’d you let me sleep so—“

                “Good morning, Logan.”

                Only Charles greeted him, sitting there in the middle of his living room looking as pleasant and patient as ever. Logan chuckled quietly, “Mornin’,” he replied. He moved towards the kitchen, “Coffee?”

                “No, thank you.” Charles swiveled towards him as he went about his routine. “I’m sorry to enter unannounced,”

                “Considering you own the property, can’t really complain. What can I do for you?”

                “What indeed. There was a bit of an incident last night; involving Scott.”

                Logan continued to pour his coffee without looking at him. His mentor folded his hands in his lap with a quiet sigh, “He was found unconscious in the Danger Room last night by Bobby. At first, it seemed like there may have been a malfunction in the programing that didn’t follow safety protocols. But upon further examination by myself this morning…I find that not to be the case.”

                The feral Mutant, centuries older than him, looked at him with same blank expression. “And how do I come in?”

                “I think it best I show you.”

 

 

                Everything had been left the same as it had been found last night. Bobby’s ice was just beginning to melt from the ruined door, and the inside of the training arena was still charred and smelled like smoke and molten metal.

                Wolverine moved towards the wall that bore the brunt of Cyclops’ attack, not really sure what he was looking at, besides obvious destruction. Scott must have been truly furious when he made these marks, for they delved deep into the thick steel and concrete that braced them, so much so that Logan wondered if Scott could not have cut through the deep foundation of the school itself.

                Logan found himself glad that he hadn’t been on the receiving end of that blast, adamantium skeleton or no.

                “Where’s Slim now?”

                “Still resting in the infirmary under Hank’s observation. Remy should be with him now.”

                At this Logan tensed and looked back at the wheel-chair bound man. “Remy? Why?”

                “I asked Gambit personally to look after Scott while he is in this…extremely vulnerable state. I feel that his powers could be of great value to him; to help him process his grief and anger.”

                “That’s something you should be takin’ care of, don’t you think?” the other man answered gruffly. “LeBeau’s been through enough shit without having to play guidance counselor on top of things.”

                “I understand your concerns…unfortunately, Scott has not left me with another option. He has not responded to any of my attempts to reach out to him. I suspect…he blames me partly for what happened to Jean. Just as he blames you.”

                Logan clenched his jaw. “Yeah, well. Can’t argue with him there.”

                “You were put in a position where you had no other choice, Logan. Scott will see that eventually, as the rest of us have.”

                Wolverine didn’t respond, turning his attention back to the wall, staring again at the wide arches of Scott’s destructive discharges.  “Still not sure what it is you want from me here, Charles. If you were tryin’ to convince me that Scott’s unhinged, you didn’t---“

                He paused, squinting, and then took several large steps backward, so that he was now standing behind Xavier’s chair. The older man swiveled towards him, brow furrowed. “What is it?”

                “There’s a shape…can’t quite make it out.”

                “A what?”

                “The cuts in the wall! Don’t think they’re just random...” He looked harder, but the image still wasn’t clear. “The Danger Room records sessions doesn’t it?”

                “Yes, unless it’s turned off.”

                They moved from the arena up to the observation deck, finding everything there in good condition. Logan found that the room had in fact recorded Scott’s session, and opened it for play back.

                Sitting in tense silence, they watched the seemingly very lucid Scott Summers begin his typical combat routine. But things quickly began to take a turn for the extreme.

                  He tensed when he watched Scott nearly fall to his death, and then heard Xavier give a disquieting gasp when he saw the same man obliterate Mystique.

                “He’s never done that…not even on the hardest training sessions. He’s never willingly or purposefully killed someone.”

                “It was him or her. And it was just a hologram.” Logan answered. “I’ve done a lot worse.”

                “Scott isn’t like you.”

                “You don’t have to tell me,” he grunted, folding his arms across his chest. The picture began to flicker in and out, the sound and image becoming distorted. Logan tried to adjust it, but to no avail. “Could be the malfunction you were talking about,” he tried to controls again. “Everything seems fine now though.”

                They were able to follow the footage until just before Scott shot Rictor—then things became scrambled, and the playback ended entirely. “That must have been when he started using the full force of his powers. It short circuited the security measures.”

                His companion turned to him; “Scott’s powers are pretty devastating even when he’s restrained. What would happen if he wasn’t?”

                “I shudder to think.” He recalled what Hank had said the night before and his hands gripped the arms of his chair nervously. “Hanks suggested to me that the stress of recent events could have triggered a secondary mutation in him. I think this plausible of course, but…I think it perhaps stems from another source other than stress.”

                “Stubbornness?”

                “You said you saw a shape upon the wall, didn’t you?”

                Xavier moved one of the security cameras so that they could have a better view from inside the deck. “Does it not look familiar to you, Wolverine?”

                Logan stared for a moment, still not quite understanding. But then something clicked, and his head ached with the sudden bright memory of Jean when he had tried to rescue her from the fireball; how he saw a shape consume her, a shape of a firebird, wings spread and looming over them.

                Wolverine felt a cold sweat break across his skin. Charles’ laid a comforting hand over his arm, “I’m still struggling to understand the Phoenix Force, but I have discovered that it’s very presence can stimulate, even generate, new Mutation. After such long exposure to Jean during her period as it’s host…I fear Scott may have been affected by this energy.”

                Logan looked unnerved. “And here I thought _I_ was the one you shouldn’t have let back in…” he grumbled. “Chuck, your boy is mostly likely going through some heavy PTSD, and maybe his powers are changing cause of it. Or maybe it is this Phoenix bullshit, I don’t know. All I know is we need to be careful. I can understand ya wanting the Cajun’s help…but this could be dangerous. I don’t like it.”

                “I know, and I am sorry to put you in this position. Which is why I’m asking you to keep an eye on Scott, incase what Remy is doing fails to help him regain control. You would provide a sort of safety net if…he becomes a threat.”

                The Professor watched his friend’s face for a moment, trying to read his expression, though it was just as simple for him to read his thoughts.

                “You don’t know what you’re asking me.”

                “I’m asking you to protect this school. To protect your friends, your family. I’m asking you to do what I know no one else can.”

                “I’m not going to have any more blood on my hands.”

                “And we will do everything in our power to make sure that you don’t. But Logan, I have lived too long. I have seen too much not to know what might happen. I love Scott. And if he were in his right mind, he would agree with me. We need to prepared…for the worst.”

                Logan bent, putting his hands on Xavier’s chair, looking him hard in the eye.  “Is that what you brought me back here for? To do your dirty work?”

                Staring into his eyes, Logan saw the young man he had known so many years ago, that naïve hopeful with such great plans for the world, already too vulnerable and heartsick for his own good.

                “Logan, please. I failed Jean. I can’t fail the rest of them.”

                Wolverine stared at him a moment more and then stood, excusing himself hurriedly from the room, punching the already battered door as he did, causing to crunch loudly. Charles sat shaking in his chair for a long while afterwards, wiping tears from his eyes.

 

**

               

                When he came back to himself, it was with an unexpected but rather sharp sense of clarity. It was morning now, and wherever Hank was, it was quiet. Scott sat up, feeling only a faint bit of dizziness and nausea left over from the sedative. He knew that something had gone wrong last night. He knew he had ended up in the Danger Room, and that something inside him…seemed to have snapped. Though the events themselves were blurry, disjointed and too dream like to discern their truthfulness.

                And while this should have left him grasping for a foothold, humbled and ready to reach out to Charles, who had been trying relentlessly to support him, Scott felt none of that desperateness now.

                In the cool, bright light of morning, he felt calm and steady. Whatever had broken inside him last night seemed to have left a new sense of self in its wake.

                His hand slid over the visor across his eyes. It was so familiar to him that it was like part of his body. For a moment he felt a twinge of fear. He wasn’t sure…

                Squaring his jaw with resolve, he closed his eyes tightly to remove the device, laying it in his lap. Then, with a nervous breath, and clenched hands, he opened them again.

                Just as the night before, nothing came of it. No devastation, no blinding beam of light that would lay waste to anything in it’s path. He was looking at the world with his own naked eyes for the first time in more than ten years.

                He smiled, feeling that new sense of purpose and self, swelling up inside him like a balloon. But he needed to test it. Cautiously he cast about for something to use; something that Beast wouldn’t mind suffering some damage.

                Finally he settled on a trash can tucked in the back of the room. He narrowed his eyes, focusing his intent, squinting faintly. A small optic blast flashed from his pupils, for a moment dousing everything in red light.  Scott blinked hard, and to his relief, when he opened his eyes again the effect had ceased. The trash can was partially melted, as predicted, but nothing else had been damaged.

                Grinning and laughing to himself, he threw off his covers and stood, feeling a thrill of elation go through him that was so powerful he had little to compare it to. For the first time in his life, he had control over his mutation.

                _Is this what it feels like?_

                “What?”

                _To be unchained._

                As fast as the high came, he found himself crashing back down to earth. He stood, barefoot and shirtless in just his boxers, trying to make sense of many things at once. He wasn’t sure how to answer the question the voice in his had posed. Was this freedom? If he was free now, what was he before?

                He cast about for clothes and pulled on his lounge pants that he found folded on a chair by the door, and made his way out of the infirmary. Hank was nowhere in sight, probably occupied in some other part of the lab.

                Scott did his best to keep his footfalls silent on the cold tile floor as he made for the main doors, not wanting to draw Hank’s attention. The scientist would no doubt have a plethora of questions in regards to Scott’s new found ability, and he wasn’t ready to answer them yet.

               

                He had no sooner stepped out the doors, glancing behind him to make sure that he hadn’t been seen, when he found himself nearly colliding with two more of his teammates.

                Three pairs of feet skidded to a halt in awkward positions, a brown paper bag shifted and crinkled in Gambit’s clutched hand, coffee sloshed from the lip of the containers in Ororo’s, dribbling onto the floor and barely missing burning Scott’s bare feet.

                Summers looked at them both in surprise, as was natural reflex, then cringed, looking away.

                “Scott!”

                “Your visor! What are you thinking, why is it--?!”

                “It’s fine!” Cyclops cut in sharply, hands out. “It’s fine. Ororo, please trust me. I know what I’m doing, I don’t need it.”

                “What do you mean?”

                He exhaled and looked at them quickly before either had time to react. Naturally they were both startled, Storm and Gambit both taking a nervous step backwards. But it took only a second for them to realize that they were not about to be rendered to ash.

                “H-how is this possible?” Ororo stammered, stepping closer to him and looking at him with ever more amazement. The cups in her hands had almost slipped completely until Scott reached out to steady them, taking one for himself.

                “I’m not sure.” He grinned, mostly to himself. “And you know what, I don’t care either. I’m just…just…” He didn’t have the words.

                Remy put a hand on arm affectionately and gave him that ever endearing, understanding smile of his that made Scott feel too much too fast. “I’m happy for you, mon ami.”

                “Thank you.”

                “De Professor told us about last night, so Stormy and I thought we’d bring you a little pick me up.” He offered the bag of drive-through breakfast to him, “Got ya de good stuff, none of that slopped together sandwich bullshit. Figured you for an omelet guy.”

                Scott took the bag, fingers brushing over Remy’s and felt a little zing past between them.

                He felt that draw towards the man beside him again, only this time it was more intense, his unrequited longing undercut by something sharp, and more primal. Remy removed his hand without saying another word, and Scott wondered for a moment if he could tell what he was thinking and feeling.

                If so, Gambit’s face gave no indication.

                “What does Hank have to say about this?” Storm continued, and Scott realized, partially to his annoyance, that the woman had been trying to get his attention for the last few seconds.

                “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”

                Ignoring her reaction, he turned again to LeBeau. “It was so thoughtful of you to bring me this, even if Charles did put you up to it.”

                “Breakfast was my idea,” Remy replied. “I always feel better discussing recent trauma over a full stomach.”

                They smiled at each other, but as Remy glanced over he could see Ororo looking at him disapprovingly. “I think maybe we’d better hold off until we’ve spoken with Hank—made sure you’re safe to go around the rest of the students without your visor on.”

                Scott paused a moment and then shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He put an arm around Remy’s shoulder and started to walk away, leading the Cajun along. Remy, surprised by this new found audacity, glanced back at Storm to see that she was slowly getting red in the face.

                Yet he didn’t stop. He gave the woman a little nod and wave, hoping she would understand. She didn’t chase after them, but he heard her give a loud, frustrated sigh and step into the infirmary alone.

                “Looks like cloudy skies ahead,” Scott sighed.

                “Well I admit, not like you to stir de pot, homme.” Remy replied as they kept walking. Discretely as he could, he attempted to get a read on Scott’s current emotional state. He sensed no instability, nothing that set off any alarms. But there was an air of anxious excitement in him, edged with frustration.

                “How does it feel? Not needing those?” he nodded towards the device in Scott’s palm as they walked.

                “Great. Scary. Surreal, I guess.” Summers gave him another smile and glanced at him a little more closely. “You know, I wasn’t sure your eyes were really that color. But now that I can see them like this…they’re even more fascinating.” He blushed then, feeling hot and stupid. “I’m sorry—I don’t know why I,”

                “It’s fine,” Remy cut in. “It’s my Charm. I’ve been working hard to keep it down lately, but…guess I’m a bit tired today.” He separated himself from Scott slightly, allowing them both some breathing room.

                “Right,” Summers nodded. “It’s hard work, isn’t it? Keeping all that down all the time. I had something to keep my powers back…you’ve only got you.”

                Remy shrugged. “C’est le vie.”

                They found a quiet table at the back of one of the study rooms, obscured from sight by book shelves, where they could speak uninterrupted. Here, Remy spoke a bit more frankly. “Yesterday was not your best day, Scott.”

                “I can’t remember when my last good day was.” The other answered bluntly. He looked tiredly, but seriously at his companion, who was gazing back at him with an open, sympathetic expression. “I really don’t. Feels like things have been a mess for so long…it’s blurred together into this fog. Losing Jean was like…falling through ice.”

                “When you’re hurting and unhappy for a long time, t’ings get dat way.  Depression like dat eats away your time, your memories, your sense of self.  You can’t get it back once it’s gone, but you don’t have to let it keep going on like dat.”

                “Sounds simple when you say it.”

                “And I know it isn’t. But nothing really worth the pain and the struggle is, oui?”

                Before Summers could answer, they heard heavy footfalls and turned. Logan was rushing towards them, Jubilee, Piotr, Kurt and Bobby close behind.

                Scott became a wall, looking at Wolverine hard but saying nothing. Remy felt the link between them sever with abrupt severity and almost flinched at it. But there wasn’t time to question the matter as the rest of the X-Men appeared in front of them.

                “There’s a situation,” the short, dark haired man gruffed. “Looks like there was a skirmish in town off the university, some anti-mutant punks trying to make a bomb—we need to get out there now.”

                His eyes darted to Scott, as if realizing for the first time whatever one else had moments ago, and stood staring in disbelief.

                “The hell happened to you?”

                “Nevermind that. We have a mission.” Their leader replied stiffly, moving forward with his usual purposeful stride, heading to the hanger to suit up for combat. The team followed him without a moment’s more hesitation, though they shared passing looks of confusion and concern.

                Remy and Logan fell to the back of the group.

                “Should I be worried?”

                “Of course, but dat seems to matter little at de moment.”            

                “Is he stable enough for this? Last thing the X-Men need is more bad press.”

                “Guess we find out, cher.”

                “Guess we will.”

 

**

 

                The sight of the incident was in chaos when they arrived. Fire and smoked filled the air, frantic students fled up and down the street, many trying to capture the events on phones as they did so. Fire and police had already arrived, as well an two ambulances, but the fire was spreading rapidly, reaching not one but two buildings now.

                A series of concussive explosions erupted over and over from the room in question, and each time it did, the building spat glass, burning metal, brick and drywall down on the struggling rescue workers below.

                From the screams they could hear inside, there were still plenty of students trapped in the upper floors, soon to become casualties.

                Cyclops, once more havind dawned his visor and other affects, looked out at the scene grimly from their perch on the adjacent roof top.

                “We need to get those people out now!”

                Kurt bounded forward, “On it!” he declared before vanishing with a loud BAMF and a whiff of purple and blue smoke.

                “Colossus, Ice Man, take the apartment building first, put out those flames best you can, give them time to get out!”

                The pair nodded and descended as well, Bobby aggressively creating an ice bridge across the chaotic street below as he began pelting the smoking building with heavy blasts of ice, smothering the flames that roared from broken windows and stifling the smoke. Colossus landed on the concrete hard—cracking it—and took off at a charge. He ignored orders from the cops to stop and raced for the main doorway, which was in danger of collapsing. He reached it just in time to keep it from crumbling completely and crushing the firefighters, laden down with injured civilians as they fled.

                “Gambit, Jubilee, I need you two on crowd control. Don’t let anyone else too close, stop anyone that tries to make things worse. I’m sure the people that are behind this are still around.”

                They nodded, Remy glancing only briefly back at Wolverine before vaulting down the fire escape with Jubilee at his side.

                “And where does that leave me?” Logan grunted.

                Scott didn’t look at him directly. “Stay here and wait for Storm and Beast, they are on their way.”

                “You need me.”

                “I have never needed you.”

                Logan started to growl something in response but Scott was already gone, taking off after the others. The feral fumed from his roof top position, but his thoughts quickly shifted when there was another small explosion from the other smoking building. Logan sniffed the smoke filled, acrid air and shook the smell of embers from his nostrils, bearing his teeth. He couldn’t wait for Storm and Hank to arrive.

               

                The scene was steadily slipping into entropy, the rescue workers overwhelmed by the nearly out of control flames and the panicked students around them. Scott met the scene of chaos head on, darting through the opening Colossus had created to allow him access into the affected building. Firefighters were still grappling with the scene on the main floor, attempting to help the civilians and other fighters who were trapped on the upper level. The stairs between them had become little more than a pile of twisted metal and tinder, leaving no escape.

                Scott focused his optic energy on the remains, destroying the twisted wreckage that made it impossible for them to be reached. “Ice Man!” he shouted into the commlink attached to the inside of his suit. “We need you inside! No time to waste!”

                Within seconds Bobby appeared, forcing his way through a burned out window, which he coated with heavy permafrost, smothering the flames and lowering the lethal temperatures as best he could.

                One look at the situation and the young X-Men knew what was needed of him. He created an ice slide from the second floor to the ground below and urged the trapped men and women to flee. Some had to be coaxed with a shove or a nudge, but soon they were all safely in the hands of the men and women in yellow coats and helmets below.

                “Is that everyone?”

                “No, there’s still someone on the fourth floor, but it’s impassable this way!”

                Scott nodded, “Nightcrawler,” he spoke again, once more to his communicator. “What’s your position?”

                “Occupied!” Kurt’s voice crackled back. “Fumes up here are starting to choke me! I’ve cleared out the third floor, there were some people from the second heading for the stairs—“

                “Taken care of. There’s still someone trapped on the fourth floor, can you take care of it?”

                “Nien,” Kurt coughed, his voice crackling. “The fumes are strongest there, I don’t think—“

                “Don’t think— _do_.” Scott snapped.

                Bobby, sweating profusely even in his ice form, appeared beside him. “I can get us up there.”

                Cyclops looked at him in surprise for a moment, and then nodded. “Let’s go.”

 

**

 

                Meanwhile, Logan was grappling the second building on his own. It was a retail space, what looked to be re-sale store, but it was closed. Police and fire presence was concentrated on the apartment building, but Logan knew he had seen a new kind of disturbance there.

                Sure enough, the front of the store front had been blown out from the smaller explosion he’d seen. The inside was filled with smoke and that horrible fume smell that made his eyes and lungs burn and filled his mouth with bile.

                Cursing his heightened senses, the blue and yellow clad X-Men moved through the darkened store front, honing in on the noises he was picking up somewhere in the back room. He stalked along, surprisingly soundless despite his bulk, and made for the door that had been left ajar, eyes narrowing in the cloudy darkness as he honed in on human scent.

                Three young men stood at the back of the storage room, trying to drag canisters out an alley doorway, barking and shouting at each other, bandanas covering their noses and mouths, either an attempt to filter the smoke and fumes or to hide their identity. It was clear they were in a panic, Logan could smell how rank they were with it.

                “—It’s your fucking fault, Charlie, I told you to be freakin careful with—“

                “Shut the fuck up Sam! I told you we shouldn’t have kept that stuff in the apartment!”

                “What are we gonna do with this shit now?”

                “Get rid of it!”

                “But the fumes are toxic!”

                “We know genius! Maybe we’ll manage to take out a few Muties anyway. Thought I caught a glimpse of one of those costumed freaks a little bit ago.”

                “You’d better fucking hope not…”

                “Shut up Josh.”

                “Shuttin’ up sounds good to me.”

                The arguing group looked up, surprised by the sound of the guttural fourth voice. The large coolers they had been dragging, filled with canisters of their bathtub version of mustard gas, were abruptly abandoned at the sight of Wolverine’s ominious looming figure, his claws fully drawn.

                “You little shits got a lot of questions to answer.”

                “Holy fuck, it’s one of them!”

                “H-hit ‘em with the gas Josh! Come on!”

                But Josh, the apparent ring-leader of this pathetic wanna-be terrorist operation, had frozen to the spot, a deer caught in the headlights. The man on his right, the scrawny kid name Sam, bolted for the door. Logan withdraw his claws long enough to lay a hefty left hook on the escaping vandal, which put him on the floor with no intention of getting up again soon.

                The third man, Charlie, made his move, grabbing one of the containers from the dropped cooler and opening it’s nozzle wide at Wolverine. Logan managed to cover his face with his arm as burning yellow-tinted mist splashed across his skin. It immediately began to blister his skin as it ate through the fabric of his uniform and his lungs burned and his throat constricted so tightly he couldn’t draw breath for a moment. It felt like he had swallowed hot coals.

                Charlie looked triumphant for a moment as Wolverine shirked away, snarling and shaking the stuff from his body, choking as the fumes grew stronger. But his smirk vanished quickly as he began to cough and choke too. It seemed whatever poison they had concocted was not only deadly to Mutants.

                Wolverine’s healing factor was already hard at work, undoing the damage as quickly as it was created. Unfortunately the smoke and the fumes were only getting worse, and as he glanced behind him through watering eyes, he could see that the fire that had been started in the shop had continued to spread, blocking their escape.

                “We’re gonna die in here!” Josh yelped.

                “Shoe’s on the other foot now huh smart ass?” Logan wheezed, trying to figure out how he was going to get out of here without adding to the body count.

                Luckily, he didn’t need to think too long. There was another loud “pop” and “bang” that shook them all as the doorway suddenly widened itself into a smoking hole. They saw flashes of magenta and purple sparks and lightning bolts, and pops and squeals followed by bright bursts of light that sounded like firecrackers.

                Figures appeared in the smoke, three in total.  Gambit’s trench coat flapped behind him as he ran forward, and the last thing Charlie remembered was seeing bright red demon eyes glaring down at him, before the Cajun’s staff clouted him brutally across the face and then the stomach, sending him flipping backwards onto the dirt floor, the still leaking canister tumbling across the floor, spraying mist as it went.

                “Don’t let it touch you!” Logan coughed, feeling his throat tear and bleed as it did.

                Remy grabbed him, pulling the collar of his own coat up around his mouth and nose as he shouldered the smaller man.

                Colossus and Jubilee were in view, The metal giant lumbering forward with a hard scowl on his face as he grabbed the spewing container and bent the opening shut with his hands. He glared at Josh, who had managed to back himself towards at the closed metal freight door at the back of the storage room. He fumbled, with the handle, trying to force it to slide open so he could escape.

                “Stay away from me! You fuckin’ freaks!”

                “Rude young man. Very, very rude. You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Piotr scolded as he tromped towards him.

                Jubilee moved towards Logan and Remy, only to find her leg grabbed by the downed man on the floor.  She shrieked as he clutched at her. “Don’t let me die in here!”

                “Ugh gross! Get off me!” She yelled, kicking him back to the ground as the man blubbered and coughed on the fumes, which were swiftly blistering his skin and turning his face red with the effort to breath.

                The air was becoming a hot poisonous cloud around them between the fire and the fumes. Though his eyes burned, Remy turned his attentions back on the freight door. “Stand back!”

                He grabbed cards from his pocket and let them gather a hefty charge before flinging them at the metal doorway, just as Colossus had cleared it, Josh gripped in his hand. The door blew wide, and the resulting combustion from his kinetic explosion managed to burn away a large portion of the fumes. They rushed the opening, emptying out into the alley, coughing and sputtering as they tried to fill their lungs with clean air.

                Logan had recovered, and the others suffered only mild affects. The terrorist lay incapacitated on the ground, nearly done in by their own creation.

                “That was unpleasant,” Colossus replied, turning to his friends. “Is everyone alright?”

                “Fine now,” Logan grunted. His eyes shifted towards the smoking building behind them, then up towards the now dark and churning sky above them. “Looks like Storm and Beast are finally here.”

                Rain began to pour down on them, drenching the building and helping to douse the remaining flames and quell the fumes.

                Wolverine frowned down at his partially ruined uniform, glaring at the culprits on the ground. “This shit isn’t cheap to make ya know.” He grumbled, nudging one of them with his foot.

                “Sure you alright, mon amour?” Remy asked worriedly.

                Logan nodded, giving his hand a warm squeeze. “Fine. Let’s round up the troops and get out of here before something else happens—“

                “Help!”

                It was Kurt’s voice that broke through their communicators, crackled by static and sounding all the more desperate for it.

                “Elf? Where are you?!” Wolverine barked back anxiously.

                “There! I see him!” Jubilee shouted, pointing towards a corner window on the highest floor of the apartment building. Kurt seemed to be wedged between the window and fire escape, half collapsed. Bobby was next to him, still inside the building.

                “Why don’t they teleport?!”

                Logan, teeth bared in fear, looked to Colossus. “Throw me.”

                “What?!”

                “I need up there fast, and I don’t have fucking wings _, now throw me!_ ”

                The other X-Men nodded, took hold of the shorter man and hurled him upward like he was tossing a boulder. The others looked on, somewhat surprised that Wolverine could be propelled so easily with his heavy adamantium frame. Then again, few could have accomplished this but Colossus.

                He managed to grab hold of the rail of the fire escape and hoist himself onto it safely.

                Gambit tapped into his commlink, “Cyclops where are you?! Bobby and Kurt is down, we need assistance! Cyclops do you read me?!”

                There was no answer but static and they all felt anxiety twist their innards.

                “L’enfer,” he cursed, then lifted his gaze higher as Ororo appeared above the building, sweeping towards them.  “Storm! I need a hand!”

                The woman didn’t pause to ask why, descending rapidly towards him, catching his outstretched hands and lifting him back into the air.  They dropped together on the fire escape where Logan crouched with Kurt, whom he had managed to liberate from the broken window. The younger X-Men seemed to be unconscious, choked by the fumes inside.

                “Bobby’s in there trying to contain it,” Wolverine coughed, “no idea where Scott is!”

                Inside they could see where Iceman had covered the room in thick flashes of frost, freezing the air and dispersing the fumes as best as he could, but the fire was still raging, melting his quick-fix nearly as quickly as he able to generate it.

                “Get Kurt to Hank, I will see what I can do here,” Ororo nodded, stepping inside the room and waving her hands as she created a gale force wind that dissipated the toxic mist lingering in the room along with any debris baring the way.

                She stepped into the blackened room, trying to spot where Bobby’s trail left off, calling into the darkness. She didn’t expect to find Gambit right behind her.

                “What are you doing?” she hissed at him as he moved ahead of her.

                He glanced back at her briefly, “We find dem faster dis way. Logan has Kurt.”

                “But the smoke—“

                He pulled what looked like magician’s scarves from inside his trench coat, handing her one before the affixing the other over his own nose and mouth. “Don’t ask,” he mumbled.

                “Gambit, I don’t think this wise, we don’t know how badly damaged the building is or how much of the toxin remains.”

                “Guess we’d better hurry along den,”

                They felt their way through the fog, finding patches of ice as they went. “Bobby! Scott!”

                There was a cough and moan from somewhere on their right, and the pair moved hastily towards the sound, pushing their way into another blackened doorway.  Bobby was on his knees, coughing and sputtering, two young woman slumped next to him.

                Storm blew away the acrid air, making the windows break as it was forcefully expelled from the room. Remy moved in, checking on the girls as Bobby continued to cough, blinking at them through watery eyes. His ice form seemed thin, as if he were having trouble maintaining it in the sweltering heat.

                “Are you alright? Can you stand?” the woman asked, crouching next to him as Remy ushered the girls, who seemed dazed but functioning, towards the windows, where a fire ladder had appeared.

                “Scott,” Drake wheezed out, voice raw and stifled. “I lost him in the hall way, you have to find him.”

                “We will, do not worry,” she promised, helping him to his feet. Bobby stood for a moment but his knees quickly buckled, and his ice form slipped entirely. He was simply too overheated. Storm caught him, gritting her teeth nervously, feeling her anxiety crawl up her throat.  The idea she might lose him over the idiocy and hatred of a few ignorant young men made her want to bring the sky down on top of them.

                “We need to get out, we need to get Logan and—“ She turned but Remy was already running back out the door. “Where are you going!?”

                The Cajun paused only briefly, “No time! Get him outside, I’ll find Scott!”

                “Gambit no! You’ll die in there!”

                “So will he if you don’t get him out!” he shouted back and then disappeared back into the smoke filled hallway.

                “Gambit! GAMBIT!”

                Panic. Bobby was wheezing, trying to maintain a grip on her, trying to focus. But she was stiff, her legs rigid beneath her as if they had taken up roots. Her heart was pounding, sweat beaded her skin as she tried to focus on her next task.

                Should she go after Remy? Her own throat and lungs were beginning to burn and tighten for lack of fresh air, and her eyes burned and watered, making it hard to see. She wouldn’t make it far if she tried.

                Lifting Bobby, she rushed to the window and tumbled out, falling a foot or two before she was able to successfully suspend herself once more. They landed clumsily on the blacktop below, where Piotr, Hank, Jubilee and Kurt were already waiting.

                Hank steadied them as Bobby began to cough and clear his lungs, already revived by being out of the poisoned, smoking building. “Here, here,” McCoy was already affixing a portable oxygen mask over her face, urging her to breathe as Jubilee helped Bobby with his. “Get your breath, don’t try to talk yet.”

                The woman shook him off in irritation, though her lungs practically screamed for the loss of the fresh air. “Gambit and Cyclops are still inside—where is Wolverine?”

                “He went back up!” Jubilee answered, looking frightened. “Didn’t you see him?”

                Storm and Beast both turned their gaze back towards the building worriedly, not knowing what was happening beyond their sight. They heard the firefighters shout that the building’s structure had been badly compromised and they were clearing the area before the whole thing came down.

                It was Piotr who was brave enough to broach the rescue workers, “We still have people inside searching for survivors!”

                The fire chief and officers looked up at him nervously, “Our men have cleared out, we don’t believe there’s any more civilians inside. Can you get your people out?”

                They heard the terrified groan of support beams buckling and saw the building actually shift on its foundation. The front lobby collapsed, cutting off the only open door way.  The rescue workers were frantically evacuating the surrounding bystanders as the bricks began to crumble and glass cracked and shattered as the building began to buckle inward.

                Jubilee turned in panic to Kurt, but the young man was still laid out on the ground, unconscious. She shook him franticly, “Wake up! Wake up! Kurt we need you!”

                Another horrible crunch and groan from the building, accented by people screaming and officers shouting.

               

               

                Inside the crumbling shell of the building, Remy had finally found Scott.

                The man’s trail was easy to locate even with the fire damage. The mutant had cut a clean hole through a heavy door at the back of the narrow, windowless hallway. Stepping inside, calculating every step as his clean air supply dwindled, Gambit found his missing teammate grappling with an older man, who was continually swinging a baseball bat at his head.

                “Get away from me you freak!” the man screamed, sweat soaked and wild-eyed.

                “For the last time, I’m trying to help you!” Scott shouted back.

                The floor beneath their feet gave a shudder and they slid as floorboards cracked, ripping up carpeting and tumbling furniture.

                Gambit shouted and had to grab the doorframe to keep from falling backwards down the hall. “Scott we have to go! It’s all about collapse!”

                Cyclops turned, as if realizing for the first time that the other man was there. Even behind his visor Gambit could see his wide-eyed gaze. But the moment’s distraction cost him, and the man with the baseball bat saw his opportunity. He swung the bat, catching Scott across the back shoulders, sending him to the ground with a yelp.

                “Get outta my apartment! Don’t you even think about touching me or my—“

                There was a scream from somewhere deeper inside the room that made both Remy and Scott look up and fear. The man turned towards the only other room in view of the wrecked living area. “Shut up in there! Stay inside, don’t—“

                Gambit struck him in the face with a glowing card, which burst and sent the man crashing into this overturned kitchen table. Remy managed to scale the broken floor with ease, pausing next to Scott, who was already shaking off the blow.

                “Grab him and I’ll get de other one, head for dat window—“

                Scott grabbed his wrist and looked at him urgently. “What are you doing here?!”

                The demon eyed man gave him a wink, “Saving your scrawny ass it would seem!”

                “You have to get out, I can handle this alone.”

                “Keep tellin’ yourself dat,”

                “Gambit wait!”

                Remy ignored the plea and moved towards the back bedroom, where a much younger man was huddled, terrified. “Who are you?! Where’s my dad?!”

                The ceiling above their heads began to rain dust and plaster and Gambit managed to grab the cowering youth and pull him out of the way before a large chunk came crashing down on his head.

                “Wait! The cats!”

                Remy groaned internally, “We have to get you out first!”

                They moved into the further decaying living room, only to find that their exit was now barred as the floor itself had opened into a large sink hole, opening up into a burning maw below.

                Scott had managed to gather the unconscious man, but could not move more than a few steps without feeling the floor give dangerously beneath the combined weight.

                The heat in the room soared as the fire below it was opened and smoke began to overwhelm them again. Remy pulled off his coat and wrapped it around the boy to shield him from the heat. He looked to the window across the room, but the ceiling was coming down in chunks, blocking the path.

                He and Scott looked at each other a moment in pale dread as they realized they were completely trapped.

                There was a snarling sound then and a short, thick figure appeared on the other side of the broken floor. “This way!”

                “They won’t make the jump!” Scott yelled back.

                “Toss ‘em over, I’ll catch ‘em!”

                The boy next to Remy whimpered but Gambit braced him. “Dat’s Wolverine, mon ami. You can trust him, and me. Now—deep breath—“ Before the boy had time to further object, Gambit swung him out into open.

                He screamed as he sailed over the broken opening, but Logan’s hand reached out and snatched him before he could fall, pulling him safely to the other side.

                Remy vaulted over with the help of his staff, and Logan caught him deftly, hugging him close for a second.

                “I saw an exit to the roof, it’s our only chance now.”  He explained and Logan nodded, looking now to Scott.

                “Come on!”

                Scott heaved the stunned man across the fisher in the floor as Remy had done, and between the two Mutants they were able to catch and pull him to safety. But the building rocked and creaked again and the maw widened, bringing down heavy beams from the ceiling and shrouding everything in dust.

                “SCOTT!”

                Logan couldn’t see the man through the fog of dust and smoke, and he could hear the breathing of his lover and the civilians beside him becoming more labored as it filled their lungs. He felt his heart twist—this was not a choice he wanted to make—ever—but there was no way of helping it now.

                He grabbed Gambit hard, picked the unconscious man off the floor and ordered Remy to grab the boy. They turned and ran frantically back down the hall towards where Remy had seen the fire exit.

                They managed the short stairwell in leaps and bounds, two—three—steps at time until they burst through the door at the top.  They rushed the ledge of the roof, looking down below. They could see the faces of a hundred terrified people looking up at them in shock.

                “JUMP!”

                It was madness. Together they pushed off from the ledge and plunged out into space, hovering for a just a second or two before gravity took hold and they began to plunge.

                The building came down behind them in a roar of breaking glass, brick and steel. A harsh, hot updraft caught them almost half way down, pushing them back up into the air. Storm caught Gambit and the boy clutched close to him and lowered them hastily to the ground, while Logan found himself suddenly blinded by a crush of bright blue fur as Hank’s large, muscular body crashed into his and brought him and the other man safely to the ground in a tumble of limbs.

                Stunned for the moment, Wolverine lay there with one side of his face against the pavement, the other covered by Hank’s chest as the man crouched over them in a protective shell, letting the smoke and ash wash over them.

                All Logan could think of was Scott. That last look the man had given him before he was swallowed up. Like had known Logan would let him down in the end. He couldn’t breathe. He pushed back against Hank’s heavy form and finally Beast relented.

                The feral stumbled up, starting to run, but quickly found that his legs were unwilling to the task. There was nothing to run to. The building was nothing more than a twisted, smoking heap now.

                “SCOTT!!” It was Bobby’s voice screaming that made Logan’s knees give out. It’d happened again. He hadn’t been quick enough, he hadn’t been strong enough. Hank had an arm around him then, pulling him back.

                “Logan—Logan!”

                Wolverine was too dazed to answer, just staring ahead, disconnected from the world.

                EMT’s were making their way towards them, trying to assess the damage, offering help to both the X-Men and the remaining civilians.

                “Logan,” Hank’s voice called to him again, this time making the other feral turn towards the sound.

                Hank was looking at him with those large golden eyes full of worry and love—yes, love—and Wolverine could not find the words. Hank’s hand moved from his chest to his face, wiping away some of the ash that was smeared across it and for the first time Logan realized there was dampness there that had streaked down to his chin.

                “I tried—I couldn’t—“

                “Shh, I know.”

                “No you don’t, I _tried_ but…” he looked about suddenly until he found Remy, crouched on the ground next to Storm and one of the ambulance workers, who was trying to giving him some much needed oxygen.

                His vison blurred sharply and he felt hot tears leak unbidden down his face as his hands shook. Hank nuzzled him, laying his head against the back of his, nose at his neck and Logan let him.

                But the momentary quiet in the wake of the collapse was short lived. There came a sort of low rattling from within the wreckage, which grew steadily, raising more dust and causing chunks of debris to shift.

                Something rose from the ruins then—a sort of faintly visible sphere of red and gold light. There was a sound like a clap of thunder, and a flash of light and heat that blinded them all for a several seconds, and when they could see again, they found that a patch of ground had been cleared away, leaving a singular man standing there, a bundle clutched in his arms.

                Scott stood there in front of them, still and silent, seeming almost as bewildered by his appearance as they were.

                “Good God…”

                Somewhere behind them Colossus uttered an oath in Russian and Bobby broke free from his grip, moving towards Scott.

                Storm intercepted, grabbing hold of the younger man just before he came to close. “Bobby wait—“

                “It’s alright Ororo,” Scott mumbled, looking to her. Her eyes met his and she was shaken for a moment at how unfamiliar they seemed. “It was just a psionic shield…nothing to worry about…” the words were clumsy on his lips as if he were realizing what they meant as he heard them. “Heh. How about that?”

                Bobby found his voice again, “You’re…you’re ok?”

                The brunette nodded to him. “I’m fine. Really.” He smiled at the blonde and then turned his eyes towards Remy, who was standing next to Storm. He moved away from Bobby without another thought and stepped towards the Cajun.

                Storm tried to put herself between them, but he side stepped her, moving back the flap of the towel that was covering the squirming lump in his arms. “We almost forgot someone it seems.”

                Remy looked down and saw that Cyclops was holding three small, squirming kittens, each a different color, which were mewing pathetically in his grasp. These must have been the cats the boy from the apartment had been asking about.

                His eyes drifted back up to Scott, who was wearing the strangest, calm expression. The Cajun began to laugh, a sound born out of shock and relief, and put his arms around Summer’s reflexively in a grateful embrace, the cats pressed between them. “Espece d’idiot! Dieu merci vous etes bien!”

                They laughed together, and a few joined their relief, including Jubilee and Piotr. Others stood aside, bewildered and stunned.

                Storm drew her gaze to Bobby, who looked at first pale, before his cheeks reddened angrily and his eyes went to the ground. He took off at a run, transforming once more into his ice form before zig-zagging his way above the gathered crowds, disappearing into the streets beyond.

 

***


	5. Chapter 5

 

***

 

                The mansion was quiet that night. Charles had spent most of the remaining day attempting to piece together all the information from his team to get a full picture of the events, as well as deal with calls from the media. Although there was the usual Anti-Mutant spin on the story, most of the rescue workers and building survivors had openly spoken their gratitude and praise for the X-Men’s efforts.

                However, one of the survivors, the man who had lived on the top floor who had been the last to be rescued along with his teenaged son, had little praise to give. The man had turned out to be the owner of the building; and now that it was gone not only were he and his son homeless, but out of work. Inevitably, he blamed Mutants for his woes, screaming about his “mistreatment at the hands of super powered freaks” on the news.

 

                In the infirmary, Kurt was finally beginning to recover from the exposure to the fumes. As he woke, he found it was Logan and Kitty who were at his bedside.

                “Hey there Elf,” the Canadian feral rumbled softly, giving him an affectionate pat on the head. “Welcome back. How do you feel?”

                “Not so good,” Kurt whimpered, a distinct wheeze in his voice. He crinkled his nose and realized that he had an oxygen tube placed there. “Gah, what is zis? I don’t like it…”

                Kitty put her hand over his as he tried to pull the hose away, “Leave it be Kurt, it will help you breathe. Hank said your lungs took a beating from some kind of toxic gas.” She looked horrified at the idea and scowled again, looking to Logan. “I wish you had brought me along, I could have helped.”

                “Wasn’t my call, pumpkin. Nothing for it now though.” He looked at Wagner again, “Beast says you’ll be alright, but you’re gonna crash here tonight and get some treatment. You’ll be back on your toes in no time.”

                Kurt nodded gratefully and gave the man’s hand a squeeze. “I hope so. I’m tired now.”

                Kitty kissed his cheek as he closed his eyes again and Logan stood up, excusing himself quietly.  McCoy’s sick bay was fuller than usual that evening, and the sight of it was disquieting. Still he knew the outcome could have been infinitely worse.

                Bobby was in the next bed he came to, similarly detained by an oxygen treatment, though his was a bit more heavy duty. The younger X-Men’s skin was oddly flushed and slightly raw looking. He hadn’t sustained burns, but the overexposure to the high temperatures while in his ice form had still caused damage and had weakened him noticeably. He looked angry and miserable, sitting there in his bed, glaring at nothing.

                Wolverine rested a hand on the footrail of his bed. “Doing okay?”

                The blonde blinked up at him, eyes glazed. “I feel like ass.”

                Logan smiled at him, “That’s not so bad. I feel like that most of the time.” He looked at him more seriously then. “Why’d you take off like that? Warren said you practically fell out of the sky when you reached the grounds. Could have busted yourself to pieces.“

                “I had it handled. I don’t need to be babysat.” Drake snapped at him.

                The older man didn’t retort but just looked at him for a moment. “Alright. You’re a full team member now, so I’ll just say this; It isn’t just about you. It’s not about getting the glory. It’s doing what you need to do to make sure the people you’re saving and your teammates come out in one piece. You risked your safety and the team’s staying in that building longer than you could handle—“

                “I was going after Scott!”

                “Who is just as stupid and stubborn as you, believe me, I’ll get to him. Right now, I’m talking about you. You could have _died_ Bobby…” he paused and tried to collect himself, scrubbing a tired hand over his face. “The X-Men don’t need any more martyrs to the cause, alright?”

                “Whatever…you’re a complete hypocrite.”

                “Excuse you?”

                “You went in after Gambit. You two jumped off the freaking roof—it’s fine for you to risk all for someone you care about but if I do it I’m stupid?”

                Wolverine didn’t say anything, just eyeing Bobby quietly, and the young blonde flushed with embarrassment under the scrutiny, drawing his knees up closer to his chest.

                “I heal. You don’t. I die, I come back. You _don’t._ ”

                Bobby sucked his lower lip, frowning hard and Logan could smell saline in his eyes. “I’m sorry, alright?” he muttered, almost too quiet for anyone but the feral to hear.

                Logan didn’t push the conversation further, standing and excusing himself from the young man’s bedside. Across the aisle, Colossus gave him a consoling look. “He is young, my friend, his pride is the worst pain he has to deal with now.” Piotr noted sagely.

                “Yeah well, his pride is gonna get more bruised when it gets my foot up its ass.” Wolverine grumbled.

                The Russian shrugged and turned his attention towards the television set as the man Logan had rescued appeared again, screaming and ranting into the microphone. This was the third news station that had picked up his story, which was getting more unflattering by the minute.

                “Such ingratitude,” Piotr Rasputin muttered, finally shifting from his metallic form back into flesh, looking irritated. “You’d think the man would have preferred you to let house drop on his head? Has he no thoughts about his son, who you also saved? Such petty prejudices…it makes my soul weary, Logan.”

                “I know big guy,” Wolverine muttered. “People are shit. Been shit since forever, ain’t likely to change. We can only do what we think is right. You’re gonna catch hell either way.”

                “That is wise of you, Wolverine.”

                “Sure, whatever. Put it in a fortune cookie.” He moved from the rows of beds back out into the less crowed area of the sick bay, hoping there would be some good news in regards to Scott, who had collapsed shortly after his miraculous emergence from the rubble. His head was still reeling from it; he’d never seen anything quite like it. 

                In the waiting area of the bay, he found Ororo, bandaged and ruffled but otherwise sound, along with Betsy, Angel and Jubilee.

                The later rushed to hug him as soon as he entered the room—which seemed to be her default greeting these days, no matter how much he disliked it. “Hey how are they looking in there?”

                “Could be better, could be worse. Where’s McCoy?”

                “Not appeared yet; still looking after Cyclops.” Betsy replied and Logan’s face fell noticeably. “Shit. Thought we’d have some news by now, it’s been hours.”

                “You don’t have to remind me,” Jubilee groaned. “Only thing worse than being worried and sore is being worried, sore and _bored_.”  She glared at the television across the room. “And listening to this garbage over and over. Can we please put something else on?”

                He ignored her whining and turned his eyes on Ororo, who had not said a word since he had entered the room. Her face was passive mask of composure, but it wasn’t difficult for him to recognize the storm brewing behind her eyes. She was angry.

                He moved to sit by her, arm draped behind her chair. “Doin’ alright there, RoRo?”

                “As well as can be, considering I find myself now needing to look after not one, but two reckless morons.”

                The room became a little quieter and Jubilee busied herself with the television.

                “Ya can be mad, darlin’, but it’s part of our job description. Doing the stuff that no sane person would do.”

                “You didn’t talk to me, either of you. You simply rushed ahead, knowing full well what could have happened.” She looked at him sternly, eyes over bright and piercing blue. “I have come to accept that your very nature means that you will throw yourself into whatever danger presents itself to you, but it is no less painful to watch. But it becomes unbearable when you allow him to do the same thing!”

                “Allow him?” Wolverine scoffed.

                A heat rose in her cheeks. “Remy competes with you, he wants to impress you. But some of us are not made of adamantium and self-repairing tissue!”

                “He has his own fighting techniques, his own style. _His own judgement._ Just like you, Ro. Or did you forget you were in that building too, choking on that poison too? You think that didn’t scare the shit out of me? It literally always scares the shit out of me. But I know you can handle yourself, so I keep those thoughts to myself. Jesus Christ. I thought I was the fucking over protective one.”

                “You can never admit when you are wrong.”

                Logan laughed and everyone cringed.

                “How’s the view from your high horse, darlin’?”

                “Hey, mom and dad,” Jubilee quipped then, making them both look up from their argument. “Are you done? Cause you’ve literally cleared the room.”

                They glanced around and realized that indeed Betsy and Warren had made themselves scarce, even the few others who had been casually drifting in and out of the lobby to check on things had stopped as their voices had carried down the hall.

                “I’m sorry.” Logan rumbled, “Didn’t mean that. But it ain’t like you to go off like that.”

                “I know. I’m sorry,” she leaned her head on his shoulder and he put his arm around her. “I’m not feeling myself lately.”

                He nuzzled her, not knowing what else to say and kissed her forehead. “We both got awful tempers, Ro. It’s kinda hot. Maybe we should have angry sex sometimes.”

                “Oh but my love, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” She chuckled, hand on his knee.

                “Grooooooooosssssss...” Jubilee groaned from across the room. She had finally given up on finding something decent to watch, and settled for some reality T.V. show.  She came to sit down beside them, for the first time looking nervous.

                “They’ve been in there a long time. Do you think Scott’s okay?”

                The two older X-Men glanced at each other, and then Storm offered her an encouraging smile; “Scott will be alright, his body is just under a great deal of stress now. Do you remember what it was like when you first got your abilities?”

                “Yeah. It sucked. I was a party and I ended up setting my friend’s bedroom on fire. Needless to say I wasn’t invited back. That year blew.”

                Logan ruffled her hair affectionately, and stood. “Maybe Remy knows what’s taking so long. I’m going to check. Tag along, kid?”

                “You ask as if I wasn’t going to do it anyway.”

                But they hadn’t even taken a step when Gambit appeared, weary looking and singed, his coat squirming with the tiny rescued felines he’d been saddled with. “Anyone know if there’s cat litter somewhere in dis house? Have a feelin’ gonna need some soon.” The tiny orange tabby in his hands squirmed and mewed, content to chew on his gloved fingertips while the other two had settled into a large lump in his pocket, napping.

                “Hank probably has some,” Jubilee giggled.

                Logan moved toward him, followed closely by Storm, who hugged him. “Are you alright?” the woman asked, trying to wipe the soot and dirt from his face and sweep his hair from his eyes. Gambit caught her fingers and kissed them.

                “Fine, cherie. Nothing a hot bath and warm bed and handful of aspirin wouldn’t cure.”

                “How’s Slim?”

                “Not as well,” Remy’s voice interrupted them as he appeared behind them. “Seems like his new powers drained him pretty heavily, dey ain’t been able to wake him since he collapsed at de scene.”

                Logan and Storm both looked at him with mixed expressions, but it was Logan who took his hand and pulled him in this time, checking for damage. “Hank have a look at your burns?”

                “Dey’re nothin’ cher, just a little singed here and there. Though I imagine I’ll be coughing that awful shit out of my lungs for days.” He replied, hacking a little as he did. Logan kissed his cheek and nuzzled him, hand in his hair. “Cajun you’re gonna be the death of me.”

                “Dat’s my line, mon cher.” Remy replied softly.

                The kitten in his palm mewed again and tried to escape, stretching its small claws towards Wolverine, swiping at his arm.

                Logan grunted at it, “Why don’t you hand these little flea-biters off to Jubes? Sure her and the girls could rustle them up some grub and somewhere to sleep and piss that isn’t on you.”

                “Don’t be unkind, cher, dey’re just babies dey don’ know any better. Not deir fault dey were abandoned.” He nuzzled the orange one and Storm gave Logan a knowing look.

                “I hope you like cats.”

                “I don’t.”

                “Sorry for interruption,” Colossus said suddenly, catching their attention from the doorway. “Professor wants to see you.”

                They looked at each other dubiously and Gambit deposited the kittens safely with Jubilee, who was all too eager to take them.

 They followed Jubilee away from the rest of the patients, deeper into the sick bay into a private room where Xavier and Hank had isolated Cyclops.

                Scott was still unresponsive, and Xavier was sitting vigil at his side, a hand resting on Scott’s forehead, seemingly deep in thought. Hank, who had been busy checking vitals, looked up at the pensively.

                “Is he stable?” Logan asked, his face grim and firm as he looked from the stricken man on the bed and back to McCoy.

                “For the moment. His loss of consciousness wasn’t due to injury, though he did suffer some of the same damage as Kurt and Bobby from the fumes and a mild case of heat stroke. From what I can tell, his sudden acceleration in mutation has simply drained him. He should recover with adequate rest.”

                “So what’s with the quarantine?”

                Xavier lifted his gaze to them at last, “A precaution for your part, my X-Men. With these rapid changes Scott is going through I fear that he could become a danger to himself and others. Telekinesis in its infant stages is extremely volatile. Scott could begin manipulating objects without his full awareness, and, if I’m correct, his psychic energy readings are growing rapidly, suggesting the possibility of telepathic abilities as well.”  Xavier looked wary and slightly haggard as he spoke, looking again at his student. “Abrupt manifestation of these abilities can be dangerous; lead to outbursts, paranoia, psychosis…he needs to be carefully monitored.”

                “You make him sound like a time bomb,” Remy pipped up then, moving apart from the group to stand a bit closer to Scott. “Telepathy is your forte, Professor. Surely you must know this sort of pain better than most. It can be controlled, can’t it?”

                “I would agree, Gambit. But even unconscious, I cannot seem to find a foothold in Scott’s mind. Something inside him is actively resisting me.”

                “Den maybe stop trying to force your way in.”

                They all blinked in surprise at this rather blunt statement, waiting for Xavier to deliver a response. Charles simply looked on at the tall southerner as if waiting for him to continue or to apologize.

                Gambit did neither. His attentions were focused now on Scott, who seemed to have revived without their noticing. His hand came up and caught Remy’s fingers in his. “It hurts…”

                “Scott?”

                The man on the bed gasped and shuddered, as if suddenly struck by something. He flinched in pain and his fingers clutched Remy’s tighter. “Oh God…it’s so loud…make it stop!” Scott’s eyes were wide, blood shot and fearful as he smashed his palms over his ears, gripping his head, contorting on the bed as if racked by pain.

                “Scott!”

                He screamed in response the raised voices, the volume of which seemed likely to shatter his skull. Sound was everywhere; people talking over top of one another as if competing to be heard, but as he looked around he realized that the voices were only in his mind.

                He looked at them all frantically, hearing their thoughts as they gawked at him with concern and fear in equal measure. And it wasn’t just those who were gathered in the room who’s thoughts seemed too loud to bear—he could Bobby, Piotr and Kitty in the next room—he could hear the other students and staff upstairs. More and more and more, until he wanted to smash his head open just to silence it all.

                Hands gripped his own and one voice overrode the hurricane of thoughts. “Scott, focus on me. Just me…”

                Summers shivered and tried to focus, but he still felt he was being swept away by the current of sound. But after a few seconds, he felt that strange warmth fill him again—Remy’s Empathy connecting with him, anchoring him.

                And suddenly, the noise in his mind began to die away. It was as if he had slipped into a deep pool where all the sound above was stifled and smothered.

                “Scott…do you hear me?”

                In the void, Remy’s voice was soft and muffled, but Scott could just make it out.

                “Yes…what’s happening?”

                “Focus on my thoughts, push the rest away. Try to read my mind.”

                “I don’t want to,”

                “Don’t worry,” there was a smile in his voice. “Just trust me.”

                Cyclops swallowed shakily and nodded, trying to focus further on the idea of hearing Remy’s thoughts, of seeing into his mind. He had no idea how this worked…he’d never been on this side of things before.

                The quiet became more profound, but not frightening. He could sense Remy’s emotions through the empathic link, that steeled sense of determination and concern. But as for thoughts…there was nothing but a sort of humming drone. Like a television that had been left on long after the programing had ended. White noise. Static.

                Scott felt himself faced with a wall, a barrier or light and energy surrounding Remy’s mind. His kinetic energy source, a pulsing, living thing, creating a shield around him.

                “Open your eyes.”

                Scott did with hesitation, fearing he might accidently discharge his optic beam in result. But it didn’t happen. The world above him—slightly over bright and quivering—was back in focus. The voices were gone, and there was only Gambit’s smiling face above his. “It’s alright. We’ve got you.”

                Cyclops took a shuddering breath of relief and sat up, hugging the man in front him fiercely. Remy tensed only a moment in surprise, then held him tightly in return, glancing worriedly to Xavier and McCoy. But both seasoned veterans looked utterly at a loss.

                “Gambit, what did you do?” Hank asked quietly.

                “Nothing,” Remy answered, “Just…got him to focus on me. Not sure how—“

                “The barrier around your mind, it’s practically a psychic dead zone. Even I find it difficult to penetrate. It must have given him enough time to refocus his thoughts and regain control.” Xavier seemed shocked, but proud. “Well done.”

                LeBeau shrugged, Scott still clinging to him. “Merci, I suppose…Scott, mon frere, breathe…dat’s it. You’re alright now.”

                With Hank’s help he was able to loosen the man’s death grip on him, easing him back down onto the bed as Hank administered a mild sedative to keep him calm.

                “This is getting out of hand,” Logan mumbled, moving next to Charles. “Ain’t there something you can do? Something to slow this down…give the man a chance to process?”

                “There’s nothing to do but let it run its course,” Hank replied, catching their attention again. “Scott’s very biology is changing, every cell in his body is evolving. Asking Charles to slow the process is akin to putting a wagon in front of a speeding freight train.”

                “I’m right here you know,” Cyclops mumbled tiredly. “Stop talking about me like I’m a damn science experiment.”

                “No one thinks that,” Charles replied even as Hank’s ears wilted and his eyes fell to the floor in embarrassment. “We’re trying to help.”

                “Like you helped her?” Scott snapped back. Charles looked wounded by the remark, looking on silently at his pupil. Logan gripped his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at their team leader.  Scott tried to sit up again, tossing the blanket off him. “Nothing helps…I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I hope it kills me. That would hurt less than feeling like this.”

                “Scott please don’t say that,”

                “Spare me the pity party, I don’t want it. You don’t know what this feels like. You think I didn’t care about her, but I _loved_ her. I loved her more than myself and I let her down. I let everyone down and now this…maybe this is her way of punishing me.” He looked directly at Logan and Xavier as he said this, sweat beading his face as he tried to stand and steady himself.

                “Divine punishment doesn’t exsist,” Gambit’s voice said beside him. “You don’t deserve dis pain, but you have to endure it all de same. But it will pass, mon ami, you need to believe dat.”

                His limbs heavy and numb from the drugs, he slumped and fell against Remy’s chest, the taller man catching him and holding him upright. Scott made no effort to dislodge himself. In fact, he seemed relieved. “It always hurts. But it hurts less when you’re here. Let me stay here.”

                Gambit felt his cheeks and ears go faintly pink at the statement, Scott’s head resting against his shoulder, eyes closed. The man was exhausted, used up. Surely he didn’t know what he was saying. He looked up at the others, unsure what to do.

                A myriad of expressions met him; none from the sources he expected.

                Xavier caught his eye then, “Gambit, I know I have already asked so much of you,”

                “I’ll stay wit him, Professor. At least till he’s out of the woods.” He settled Scott back into the bed, glad he was met with little resistance.

                “Thank you.”

                “I’ll get you a more comfortable chair,” Hank mumbled, shuffling off to find one as Xavier started to wheel himself away, ushering the others to follow. Storm and Wolverine both lingered behind.

                Ororo had her feet planted, looking lost and frustrated. “I don’t know—“

                Logan took her arm gently, surprising them both. “Go on, Ro. Slim needs him more than we do right now.”

                He leaned in to kiss Remy’s cheek and then took Ororo’s hand, leading her after Charles as Remy settled himself next to Scott’s beside.  Summers looked to him with hooded and glazed eyes but smiled all the same. “Thank you. I know I don’t deserve this—“

                “Hush. Just try to get some sleep.”

                Scott gripped his fingers loosely again, as though he needed the physical contact to ease his fears. Remy allowed it, settling into the larger reclining chair that Hank brought forward. McCoy looked at him pensively. “Is there anything I can get you?”

                “Non,” Remy answered, feeling rather tired himself. He didn’t even have the energy to be mad at Hank at the moment. “Do you…think he’ll come out of dis alright?”

                Hank nodded. “We’ll see to it he does.”

 

**

 

                Cooking duties and formalities were dispersed in favor of ordering pizza and stretching themselves out in the common area next to the kitchen. There was not much chatter, and the mood itself seemed heavy and somber after the weary day.

                News footage of the accident played over on two separate televisions, the younger students watching in awe at what cameras had managed to capture of the daring rescue, while the team members listened eagerly for further details about the culprits.

                Jubilee sat on the floor, entertaining the three rescued kittens in Gambit’s absence. Though none of the liter seemed overly interested in her and kept trying to escape, presumably to look for the Cajun who had been carrying them around previously.

                Logan and Ororo were both unusually quiet, both working on their second beer, barely looking at each other as they gazed from the television to the doorway and back as though waiting for something.

                “It’s extremely unusual, don’t you think, this late development in Scott’s abilities? It doesn’t seem natural.” Ororo spoke then, eyeing her partner as if she was sure he was thinking the same thing.

                Logan glanced at her briefly, draining his second bottle in three big swallows and setting it aside. “Don’t know, Ro. Seen stranger things. Look at Hank; he started out with just an oversized foot problem. Now he’s qualified to be an extra in _Cats._ ”

                “Yes, but Hank’s mutation is still a progression of his original abilities.”

                “Even the blue fur?”

                “Well, within reason.” She didn’t seem to be in the mood for his humorous side. “But Scott, who’s never shown any abilities outside of his optic beam, suddenly developing telekinesis and telepathy? And that bubble he created…I’ve only ever seen Jean do that.”

                He looked at the ground, shifting faintly in his chair, but the woman didn’t notice. “What are ye sayin’, Stormy? That this change was brought on by somethin’ else?”  He thought about what had seen in the Danger Room earlier that day. Did he dare tell Storm what he suspected was the real source of Cyclop’s sudden transformation?

                “I can’t be certain of anything at the moment; except that he seems unstable. I worry for him, but I worry more for Remy.”

                Now Logan lifted his head and looked at her fully. “What?”

                “He seems so attached. Haven’t you noticed?”

                “Summer’s is in pain. Remy’s empathy probably feels like a big shot of morphine to ‘im right now. Can’t say as I blame ‘im.”

                “And doesn’t that bother you?”

                “Just about everything Scott does bothers me. But that ain’t the point. Remy’s only doing what he thinks will help ‘im, and he knows when to step back. Maybe Scott’s a little unbalanced right now, but he’s not the likes of Creed.”

                “You’re forgetting how easily influenced Scott is by Remy’s Charm.”

                “He’s got a handle on it.”

                “And what if he doesn’t?”

                Everyone was looking at them then, but Logan only looked at Storm. “Maybe we’d better take this talk elsewhere.”

                He stood, hoping that she would follow. At that moment however, Gambit appeared among them, looking subdued. “Tell me dere’s some food left, I’m starvin’.” He mumbled. Logan nudged an open pizza box towards him.

                “Plenty to go around, darlin’.”

                “How is Scott? Was Hank able to stabilize him finally?” Ororo asked expectantly.  Remy took a slice of pizza, consuming half in one bite and nodded. “Oui…no more weird fluctuations, or voices or nothin’ like dat. Seems back to his old self when I left, sleepin’ good.” He washed his food down with a swig of beer. “T’ink I’m more tired den he is now though. Drainin’ staying connected to someone dat long.”

                “You musn’t overextend yourself like that,” Storm scolded softly, running her fingers through the back of his hair and leaning over his shoulder to hug him.

                “I’m fine, Stormy,” he assured. “Besides, what good are dese powers if I can’t help?”

                “You can be of help elsewhere. Let Hank take it from here.”

                Remy was not sure if he liked or understood her tone, but was too tired to question it. He glanced over as Jubilee appeared, cats in hand.

                “Here, will you take your fury little children off my hands now? They’re adorable but they don’t seem to be happy with my company. Do you keep cat nip in your pockets by chance?”

                The kittens mewed frantically at the sight of LeBeau, scrambling to climb out of the small cardboard box the girl had attempted to confine them too. Gambit scooped them up, looking at the with a sort of fond helplessness.

                “Oh petite, here I thought you’d be lookin’ after dem…surely Kitty and Rogue would like one?”

                “Nope. They don’t want anyone but Daddy LeBeau. I tried.”

                Gambit chuckled, scooping up the bright orange kitten and watching it set it’s tiny claws into his coat, mewling and purring ecstatically. “Ah I see…I suppose we strays and castoffs have to stick together eh petite? You little devil you.”

                He scratched it beneath it’s tiny chin only to receive a sharp nip that drew a drop of blood from his finger. “Ah! Devil indeed…”

                Wolverine grunted, doing his best to pretend that the sight wasn’t absolutely endearing. “I don’t like cats.”

                “But you love me, mon couer, so we compromise. I’m in sore need of a bed right now, t’ink it might be best we stay in the mansion tonight. To the attic, oui?”

                They made to depart, but Logan paused a moment then. “Actually, I’m heading out for some air. Clears my head. But you two head on up. I won’t be long.”

                Both his lovers looked discouraged by this, but had little mind to resist. When Wolverine had the itch to roam there was little point in trying to stop him. “Be careful, cher. People still in a stir over dis mess, don’t t’ink it safe for you to head out alone.”

                “Not safe for them maybe.”

                “Just be careful, Logan.”

                He kissed them both and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, slipping out towards the main corridor.

                He heard footsteps trailing after him and as he pulled open the door, paused to grunt; “Where do you think you’re going kid?”

                “I was gonna ask you the same thing.” Jubilee replied, sliding up along side him, hands in the pockets of her bright yellow coat, looking at him with a knowing expression.

                “None of your business.”

                “That’s just your way of telling me to bug off, but I know what you’re up to.”

                “That so?”

                He moved outside, not caring that she was still trailing behind. He was making his way towards the garage where his bike was stored.

                “Yeah, you’re going to check on those assholes who made that gas.”

                “Ya got me.”

                “Take me with you! I can help.”

                “This isn’t a job for—“

                “Am I an X-Men or not!?”

                He blinked at her, impressed by her persistence and amused by her frustration. It wasn’t often he saw Jubilee this adamant about her role on the team, and he certainly wasn’t one to squash her enthusiasm for do-gooding. That would probably burn out of her in its own time.

                “Alright, alright. Grab a helmet. I want to get this over with.”

 

***


	6. Chapter 6

 

***

 

                It was strange to be alone in the attic again, just the two of them. While the majority of the personal affects had been moved to the lake house, the bed, the couch and a good deal of Storm’s plants had remained where they were. The free space had been converted into a sort of study or office for her in the meantime.

                Remy settled the kittens into an empty basket with some blankets and cushioning and gave them water and some tuna, which seemed to sate them for the time being.  Storm busied herself with her plants, watching LeBeau out of the corner of her eye.

                She felt some of the buzzing irritation that had filled her head earlier start to calm and recede; a great relief. She tried to rationalize that the stress had been getting to her, and that a little privacy and isolation away from the rest of the team was all that would be needed to soothe her nerves.

                But even as she tried to convince herself of this, she knew it was a lie. Something bigger was boiling beneath her exterior, and she was afraid what would happen if it grew beyond her control completely. It froze her insides and made her squirm. She didn’t want them to see her like that. She wouldn’t let them.

                Forgetting the plants, she moved back towards her partner, who was perched on the edge of the sofa tiredly watching the animals as they settled in to sleep in a pile. She sat down beside him, brushed his hair away from his neck and kissed him there lightly.

                Remy sighed warmly and turned towards her, pulling her under his arm and kissing her. “Long day, eh cherie? When does dis super hero gig start getting fun?”

                She smirked and kissed him again. “I’ve been at it for awhile now and it just hasn’t come up. Although, that’s not to say it doesn’t have its rewards.”

                “Ah yes, like de people you risk your life for calling you menace?” he quipped.

                “The boy you saved certainly didn’t seem to agree with his father.”

                “Poor kid, he’s got a handful with that for a parent. But you’re right.”

                Storm put her hand on his thigh, looking at him intensely and Gambit didn’t need words to know what she was asking. “It’s been awhile since it was just the two of us.”

                “Oui,”

                She took his chin between her fingers and held him still, “You frightened me today. Make it up to me.”

                Remy’s cheeks went faintly pink with excitement. Ororo could be soft and sweet in bed, but there was a special kind of thrill that went through him when she wasn’t. He and Logan had found a mutual desire in letting her own them in bed.

                “How shall I do that, mon amour?”

                Ororo smirked and kissed him hard, biting his lip faintly as she pulled away. “Let’s get undressed.”

                They shrugged themselves out of ash-dusted, smoke scented uniforms until there was nothing but flushed bruised and scratched skin between them. Remy pulled the tall woman against him, kissing her deeply, loving her softer lines and curves that were still powerful and firm.

                He ran his hands over her dark smooth skin, across her shoulder blades and down the long curve of her back, resting on her hip and squeezing lightly as the woman ground her hips against his, making him throb and stiffen. He kissed her angular jaw and the graceful length of her neck, swiping his tongue across a vein as she dug her nails into his shoulder blades and sunk her teeth lightly into his shoulder.

                His hands moved to her breasts, making her moan quietly as she moved a hand lower to tease him, dancing her long fingers along his hot skin, feeling him twitch in response. Her body gave a little twitch of its own in excitement, anxious for more.

                “On your knees.” She purred in his ear, and Gambit let himself be pushed down as she lifted one leg and steadied it on the edge of the couch, opening herself up as he kissed down her naval and hips, fingers teasing her, feeling how slick she was.

                She put a hand on his head, fingers twisted in his auburn hair and guided him lower, feeling his tongue against her, soft and tentative, fingers moving further back to open her more fully, slipping inside and making her gasp.

                Gambit had a very different approach to pleasuring her this way than Logan did, and though both made her weak at the knees. Remy was softer, more coy about it, knowing a lighter touch could be more effective in setting her nerve endings on edge.

                She was already breathing heavily, feeling two fingers spreading her wider, slipping in and out steadily and as he continue to lap at her, sighing and humming occasionally. She gave his hair a little tug, wanting more, pushing him a little harder against her.  He slipped a third digit inside her and picked up the pace, sucking and licking in turn until she clenched her teeth and tugged his hair again, letting out a breathy moan as she shivered.

                Remy looked up at her, waiting for permission to move before withdrawing. She pulled him up and kissed him, not shying away from the taste of herself on his lips and pushed him down on the couch before straddling him.

                He ran his hands up and down her body, electing more shivers and sighs from her as she rubbed herself against him. The sensation of his cock sliding against her already sensitive clit made her jump slightly but she loved it and continued to do so for several more seconds, driving them both crazy, before finally letting the man push inside her, settling in deep.

                Gambit moaned loudly, head falling back against the couch as she gripped her hips. “Ro!”

                She rolled her hips against him, rising and falling only slightly, squeezing herself around him from time to time to keep him stimulated and rasping.

                “Don’t you dare cum yet,” she warned.

                He whimpered and pulled her closer, leaving a trail of love bites across her shoulders, and down to her breasts, making her yelp and cry his name, but she wouldn’t relinquish her pace, one hand still gripped in his hair.

                Remy’s face was red, she could feel him twitch and throb inside her each time she came down hard against him, enough to grind their bones together. “Cherie I can’t last like dis…” he whimpered.

                “Yes you can.”

                He moaned against her skin, “Please mon Coeur…”

                She turned his face towards her and kissed him again, but stilled, making him moan. “No, love. You haven’t satisfied me enough yet. Understand?”

                She moved off him, making him gasp at the sudden loss of contact and tugged him up, though they both had shaking knees. He followed her over to the bed, where she sat down on the edge and pushed him down on his knees again, positioning him between her spread legs. “Make me cum. Don’t touch yourself.”

                Remy whimpered quietly but obeyed, dipping his head between her thighs again. She stroked his hair and neck while he ate her, his own erection pulsing painfully between his thighs sorely needing attention.

                It was quicker this time, Ororo feeling that warm clench in her stomach and thighs within just a few minutes and she sighed happily, thighs shaking as Remy brought her over the edge a second time with his mouth.

                He came up for air, resting his head on her thigh and his hand strayed to his cock.

                “No,” she pulled his hand away and laid back onto the mattress, beckoning him to climb on top of her. Remy did so hurriedly, desperate to be inside her again.

                “Slow,” she commanded quietly and Gambit nodded, knowing better to protest. She wrapped her thighs around his hips as he slid inside her again, an inch at time at her request. It was agonizing as he felt so close to the edge, he just needed more friction, more speed.

                But Storm denied him, smiling the whole time.

                She swept his damp hair out of his face, pressing her hand across his flushed cheek. “Impatient sweetheart?”

                “Oh Ororo please, please…sil vous plait, I _can’t_ …” His thighs were visibly shaking from restraint.

                “As much as I like to hear you beg, Remy, I need something else.”

                “Anything,”

                “You trust me don’t you?”

                “Yes, yes of course,”

                She ground herself slowly against him, shaking his concentration further. “And you know I love you. That I’ll do anything to keep you safe? So you’ll listen to me. Just like now. Trust I know what’s best for us?”

                “Oui,” it was barely a word, he was breathing too hard.

                “Fuck me. Hard. Now.”

                A cry went up from both of them as Gambit grabbed her hips and pushed deep and fast, and Storm screamed and grabbed the blankets in her hands at the pounding pace he took up. She could feel him pressing against the deepest part of her and she felt her heart clench. She hadn’t been taking her pills…but she didn’t care either. She clenched around him, lifting her legs higher and pulling him down harder on top of her.

                Remy thrust erratically several more times and then his breath hitched and grabbed her hard, and she felt him twitch and spill inside her. She gasped at the sensation, partly with fear and partly with desire knowing she the risk she was taking.

                She was still clenching around him and to her surprise his hand moved between them and began to rub her, his hips still swaying as he rode out the last of his orgasm. Storm panted and squirmed, she was already so sensitive and he was still pressed so deep.

                A third wave of orgasm hit her and made her squeeze herself so tightly around him that Remy groaned as well, feeling her muscles encase him completely, pulling everything he had out of him. They sunk down together into the mattress, breathless, bruised and sweaty, a tangle of arms and legs and heaving torso’s.

                Storm stroked his abused scalp and praised him softly and he nuzzled and kissed her skin softly, though it earned oversensitive whimpers from the woman. He lifted his head to look at her more carefully, kissing her lips softly and stroking her neck.

                “Alright cherie? Was it good?”

                She nodded and kissed him back, feeling him slowly soften inside her.

                It seemed to dawn on Remy then and he looked at her again, this time with a bit more concern. “I should have put a condom on.”

                “It’s fine.” She assured. “Don’t worry.”

                He let his hand trail down between her breasts and across her stomach, resting just below her naval, which was still warm, tense and quivering faintly. “T’ings happen, even on de pill. Sure you be alright if--?”

                She kissed him to quiet him and looked at him sincerely. “Carrying a child of yours would be no burden, Remy LeBeau. Now hush. I’m exhausted.”

                He nodded and dislodged himself slowly, feeling that bone-deep satisfied ache of passionate sex.

                “You certainly good at givin’ orders, cherie.” He grinned.

                “You’re good at taking them.” She winked back. “But really…it wasn’t too much was it?”

                “Non, it’s fine. You’re a queen and I’m ever eager to please you.”

                “There’s that silver tongue again.”

                They cleaned off quickly and slunk into the bed together, cuddled close, Storm’s head on his shoulder.  She started to relax for the first time in what felt like days. So much had been swirling in her head, keeping her on edge, her mind darting from one thing to the next so quickly it all seemed a blur. It was exhausting, physically and mentally. The rush after sex did little for the buzzing high she felt steadily growing in her mind, but it did  make the rest of her tired, and lethargic. Maybe she could negotiate some sleep now.

                Remy’s heartbeat in her ear, she felt more steady, and their shared connection, though dull without Gambit’s active participation gave her some relief.

                Remy threaded his fingers through her hair and traced them lightly up and down her neck and back. The sensation would soon send her to sleep; but he spoke then.

                “Ro…what did you mean before? When you were talking about trusting you to know best?”

                “Nothing important,” she answered, though it was a lie. She just wanted him to be quiet and hold her. She was so close to finally being able to shut down. “Just the heat of the moment.”

                Remy kissed her forehead. “Is dat really all?”

                She felt irritation rise in her in alarming spike, her chest and stomach constricting with an effort to hold it back. “Remy, please. Not tonight. Go to sleep.”

                He didn’t say anything more, but she could feel him, their link suddenly connected to its fullest.

                “Stormy, what’s wrong?”

                She sat up with an angry sigh and looked at him bitterly. “Don’t do that,” she chided. “Don’t—don’t—“ she tried to slow it down. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to be angry, but it was bubbling up inside her. “Don’t use that on me.”

                “Not intentional, cherie,” he quipped defensively, sitting up now as well, sleep forgotten. “But you need to be up front wit me. Tryin’ ta get me to agree ta things during sex…not very classy Ro.”

                She glared at him. “You want to know what’s not ‘classy?’ The way you are letting Scott fawn all over you. I know the Professor asked for your help, but you’re letting it go too far.”

                “Too far? And how exactly am I doing dat? Scott’s vulnerable, he’s not thinking clearly—“

                “Exactly! And after what happened between you—“

                Gambit was up, moving away from the bed, gathering his clothes from the floor. “I don’t believe dis…”

                “Remy stop—“

                He ignored her, finding clean left over clothes from the closet and pulling them on hastily. “Dis is bullshit, Ororo. There is nothing going on between me and Scott, nothing like what you’re imagining—“

                “It’s not ‘imagining’ when you’ve slept with him!”

                He stilled for a moment, his back to her. The noise had woke the kittens, and the white one had scampered away from his brothers and was rubbing itself anxiously against his ankle.

                “What is it you want from me? What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? You want me to apologize for being manipulated? Alright. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I slept with Scott. Dat what you want? I’m sorry! I regret it, alright? And if I could have stopped it, I would have!”

                “I know,”

                “Obviously, you don’t. You feel threatened, dat it? I love you, Ororo. You and Logan both. I’m not going anywhere.”  He looked at her helplessly. “You talk to Logan about dis?”

                She pulled her knees up to her chest. “It’s not about Logan,” she sighed. “But he’s also biased in the matter. He doesn’t see how you could fall for someone like Scott. But I’ve known Scott longer and I know you two share a connection.”

                “So what? Why does dat mean dat I’m just gonna go scampering into his bed? We all have lots of connections—you and Hank for example.”

                Storm blinked at him. “What?”

                “Does Logan know you’ve been seeing Hank?”

                “Henry and I have a special relationship. Logan knows this. And what does that have to do—“

                “Double-fucking-standards.” He growled. “You and Logan can fuck around with whomever you like, and that’s fine. Why? Cause you’re not me? Cause people don’t get addicted to de way you make dem feel? Dat it?”

                “Remy, you have to understand,”

                “I thought we were done with all this shit. I really did. You know, Storm, when we first got together it wasn’t under the best of circumstances. You were there for me in a moment of weakness, and the feelings between us were mutual. But you went behind Logan’s back. And it never occurred to you that it could hurt him—or hurt my relationship with him. And when it was over, _the two of you_ discussed it—as if you were bartering over me. Did you ever consider asking me how I felt about it? No. It wasn’t important, because I am the way I am. Yeah. You sure know how to make a man feel like he’s worth somethin’.”

                “Gambit stop—“

                “Non, I can’t. You ask me to trust you, but how can I do dat when clearly you don’t t’ink I can be? But don’ worry, you’re not alone. In fact, I bet you and Beast can chat _all about it!”_

                Storm was up from the bed and grabbed him, pushing herself into his arms as she wrapped hers around him. “I’m sorry! Remy I didn’t…I made a terrible mistake, I shouldn’t have said those things I’m just—“ Angry tears welled in her eyes and she started to sob, feeling overwhelmed by everything swirling through her head.

                After a moment Remy put his arms around her in return, saying nothing. “Tell me you trust me, Stormy. Tell me I’m just as worthy as Logan in your eyes. I need to hear you say it, cherie.”

                “I love you.”

                “But do you trust me?”

                “You, yes. But—“

                “Non, cher. It’s yes or no. So which is it?”

                More tears spilled down her cheeks. The answer shouldn’t have been so difficult. But she couldn’t help the fear that had crept over her, the insecurity that had taken hold.  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

                They both knew it was a lie.

                The pair held each other for a long time, saying nothing, a fair amount of tears between them.

                “You look tired, come back to bed.”

                He kissed her cheek and shook his head, “Je regret, don’t t’ink I can sleep here tonight. I’ll wait up for Logan. You get some sleep. We talk in the morning.”

                She nodded, knowing there was nothing else for it.

                He gathered his coat and the kittens and moved towards the door. “Bon nuit.”

 

**

 

                The police station was about what Logan expected from a small town. The night shift was populated by bleary-eyed officers and a handful of suspects and perps who were being processed, and  maybe one or two civilians who were providing witness reports or filing complaints. The place smelled of Lysol, stale coffee and greasy take-out.

                Jubilee staid at his elbow as they walked to the front desk.

                “Can I help you?” said the young male officer behind the counter, looking up from his computer. He had that wiry, nervous look of a young cadet who was still getting used the environment. There was no doubt that since X-Men had formed, Westchester’s crime rate had doubled. He looked Logan over with a mixture of intimidation and suspicion.

                “Relax, bub,” the short man grunted. “Here to check on those punks who tried to bomb the university earlier today.”

                “Are you a parent sir?”

                “God I hope not.”

                Jubilee giggled behind him.

                “Um, I’m sorry. Are you a member of the press?”

                Wolverine looked at the man stiffly. “I’m from Xavier’s. I want a chance to talk to your ‘suspects’ on why exactly they decided it would be a good idea to make a bomb in student housing, and who gave them access to the building next to it to store their stash.”

                The younger man paled. “Oh…you’re one of those…those X-Men people.”

                “Yeah.” Logan snorted. “So, you gonna help me out? Or do I need to take this over your head?”

                “C-can I see your claws?”

                Jubilee giggled again.

 

                A moment later they were being escorted through the office floor, littered with desks and obnoxiously grey walls and cubicles.

                “Wow, depressing.”

                “Shush.”

                They were lead to an office door, where a tall dark skinned man wearing glasses appeared. He paused, looking his guest over appraisingly before the other officer spoke, “Sir, this is one of the uh…fellas from that Xavier Institute? He wanted to talk to someone about the fire earlier.”

                “I wanted to talk about the anti-mutant terrorist.” Logan said bluntly. “Ask them some questions.”

                “Sir, I’m afraid that’s not something I can help you with. However, if you are in fact one of the X-Men who were on the scene today I would appreciate sitting down with you to discuss—“

                “You want details bub, you let me talk to one of those punks first.”

                “I’m not going to haggle with you.”

                “Sure, I understand. You got procedure to follow. But I got people who are hurtin’ from that gas they made, I got a pal who may not make it in fact. So I think you need to take that into consideration. Or do we need to turn this into a political thing?”

                The man looked at Logan sternly. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

                “Howlett. Now can we deal or not?”

                “Are you willing to provide us with what we need to make sure these men serve time?”

                “I’ll give ya everything I got. Just give me ten minutes with one of ‘em. You can have one of yours sit in with me, if that makes ya more comfortable. Have they asked for a lawyer?”

                “All but one.”

                “Swell.”

                “Wolvie, you’re not gonna--?” Jubilee asked nervously as they were escorted again down another hallway and lead into an enclosed room furnished with only a table and chairs. Logan and Jubilee sat down, and another officer stood by the door waiting for the suspect to be brought in.

                The woman in uniform looked at them skeptically. “You know this is against normal procedure, don’t you?”

                “I don’t like that word.”

                “What word?”

                “Normal.”

                The woman rolled her eyes and looked to Jubilee. “This your dad? What is he, Dick Tracy or something?”

                “Dick who?”

                The man named Josh, still sporting all the scrapes and bruised he had taken in their earlier tussle, was escorted into the room.  He came to a stand-still when he laid eyes on Wolverine, whom he recognized even without the costume.

                “Hey, what is this?” he gasped.

                “Settle down, Mr. Daniels, this gentlemen just wants to ask you a few questions.”

                “This—this isn’t legal! You can’t do this, I—“

                “Sit _down._ ” Logan rumbled.

                Surprisingly Josh gave no further protest, slipping instantly into his seat as the officer fixed his cuffs to the table.

                “You can’t do shit to me in here, freak.” His eyes drifted towards Jubilee. “This your little side-kick?”

                “I’m nobody’s side-kick, asshole.” She returned, her sweetness vanished. He shifted anxiously in his seat and Logan eyed him coldly.

                “So you don’t like Mutants. You must think you’re a real hero, getting yourself into this shit with your little stunt. Bet your parents are real proud.”

                “Freaks like you two don’t belong here; we want you gone.”

                “Yeah I can see that,” the older man answered. “You must have thought you had something really good going there. That gas you cooked up was nasty stuff. Hurt a lot of my friends.” Josh started to smile but the dangerous glare from Wolverine made him think otherwise. “Now what I’m interested to know, Joshy, is where you learned to make it.”

                Here the young man paused, looking somewhat startled. “I invented it. Dumbass.”

                “No you didn’t.” Logan answered bluntly. The officer by the door was listening more intensely now, stepping a little closer. “See, a punk ass little bitch like you and your little groupies ain’t smart enough to come up with that stuff on your own. You know how I know that? Cause Mutant biology ain’t taught in schools—it’s complicated stuff, most of the highest-ranking genetics and scientist in the field are still trying to riddle it all out. Especially cause mutation don’t come in a one-size-fits-all formula. Different things affect different powers. And even if your Yeager-bomb drinking fraternity pledge ass _could_ possibly have stumbled upon an effective formula…getting the chemicals you need would be pricey. Too rich for your blood I’m willin’ ta bet.”

                Logan could smell the spike of adrenaline that went through the student in front of him, he could smell him sweating and hear his pulse increasing. Josh laughed nervously, looking towards the officer. “Do you hear this looney?”

                The woman however did not look amused. She nodded back to the black haired man, “Sounds like a convincing argument to me.”

                “Who put you up to it, bub. Someone helped you. Someone provided you supplies or funds, now which is it?”

                “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

                Logan drummed his fingers on the table top slowly, flexing his knuckles, watching Josh as he stared at the thin skin between them, knowing that was where his claws came from. He was sweating through his t-shirt, and he gulped almost inaudibly. But Logan didn’t miss a beat.

                “The building owner. Did you know him?”

                Josh stiffened and both Jubilee and the officer looked at Logan with renewed surprise.

                “No,” he scoffed.

                “I can smell when people lie to me.” Wolverine answered calmly. “See, it’s all part of my ‘freaky’ mutation. I can hear your heart trying to tear itself out of your chest, I can smell you sweating over that rank Axe cologne you’re wearing…disgusting by the way. And I can smell that you’re scared. You should be.”

                “You can’t do anything to me…”

                “Not me I’m talking about. See, if you accepted help from some—let’s say that big-mouth sack of crap who keeps raking me and my friends over the coals even after we risked our lives to save his—chances are they’re tied in with someone even bigger. Someone even meaner. Someone who isn’t going to appreciate screw-ups who can’t get the job done. You and your pals are pawns, Joshy. Pawns are expendable.”

                “I-I think I oughta get a lawyer.”

                Jubilee cringed and the officer beside her looked genuinely disappointed, as if it was over. Logan just folded his arms across his chest and sat back in his chair.

                “Sure. Probably good idea. Sure they’ll get you off with a slap on the wrist, minimal jail time. Well…maybe not. After all, you are an adult, and even the most biased judge in this district will still charge you with a hate crime. That means you’ll be doing your 6-8 months in a full-lock down facility. You know, the kind with people a lot meaner than you, who don’t care about your scholarship or your trust funds. Real bad guys…”

                Josh was pale.

                “You’re trying to scare me. I want a lawyer.”

                Logan shrugged and looked at the woman beside him. “You heard the kid. Get ‘im a lawyer. He needs someone to hold his hand and explain to him how he’s gonna spend his next year of college getting his head beat in on the daily and getting his ass—“

                “Wait!”

                Logan smiled. “Yeah?”

                “Okay, you’re right. You’re right we didn’t do it alone, the building guy…he came to us. He offered us money and drugs if we did him a favor. Said he had an idea to clear out the Mutie kids he thought were living in the building…he was real paranoid, a real whack job, okay? So we did it; he got us supplies from some business guy in NYC…said all we had to do was cook up the gas bombs and then leave ‘im around the university wherever we thought Muties would be. He let us use his storage room from the store out back to hide the stuff, but the last batch was sloppy and--”

                The woman beside Wolverine pulled out a paper pad from a filing drawer in the corner and tossed it on the table in front of him along with a pen. “Write it all down.”

                “Sure, sure…” he stuttered. “D-does this mean I’ll get a lighter sentence?”

                “If that’s what you want to believe, kid.” Logan stood, ushering Jubilee to follow and patted the woman on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

                She looked at him in amazement. “That was really something,” She escorted him to the door, glancing back at Josh who was frantically scribbling. “Ever consider joining the force? You’d make a hell of a detective.”

                Wolverine gave her a flirtatious little smile. “Oh, I’ve tried that hat a time or two, ma’am. Couldn’t stand the paperwork. Thanks for your time.”

                Jubilee trailed behind him as they made their way back out into the main lobby. “Oh my god. Oh my god. That was…how did you do that? You didn’t even pop your claws!”

                “If I had he’d a pissed himself. And I hate that smell.”

                She hugged his arm. “Detective Wolverine, on the case!” She laughed. “When where you a detective?”

                “Before you were born.”

                “So like…in the 80’s?”

                He ignored her, eyes ahead. They passed a hanging file on the wall, and Logan noticed a name scrawled on the label. He grabbed the folder before anyone could see it and shoved it into Jubilee’s hands. “Put that under your coat and keep walking.”

                They slipped out the main lobby and down the steps of building, not stopping until they had turned the corner.

                “What the hell--?”

                He took the folder back and riffled through it, finally pulling out a sheet with forwarding name and address for the building owner, along with his picture. “Got it. Go back and drop that in the lobby, I’m sure they’ll need it.”

                “Isn’t this stealing? Detective’s aren’t supposed to steal.”

                “Will you shut up with the detective shit?”

                “You’re such a grumpy ass…”

                They passed a parked police cruiser and Jubilee tucked the file under the windshield wiper and trotted off down the sidewalk, dragging Logan along beside her.

                “Smooth.”

                “Better than your stupid plan.”

                They walked another block and ducked down a narrow side street, ducking into a café where they took a seat in a corner, looking over the paper in front of them.

                “Leon Marcus, 56, originally from Jersey…looks like he worked for Oscorp.”

                “As a janitor.” Jubilee scoffed.

                “Yeah, well I have a hunch he was putting in some extra hours for ol’ Norman and his pals. No wonder he was so pissed when Scott tried to pull him and his kid out, probably afraid he’d stumble on evidence.”

                “Well there isn’t any now, the place is in pieces.”

                “True, but I’m sure we can find something else.”

                “We? Shouldn’t we leave this with the real cops?”

                “I’m not concerned with the small fries. I want the big fish. I want get my hands on the chemicals, see if Hank can do something with ‘im. If there’s any chance we could trace it back to Osborn himself, it would be a big win for us.”

                The girl stared at him awhile in a fond absent way, “You think it will really make a difference? With people like Trask and Kelly and the MRD out there?”

                “Probably not. But getting caught with stuff like this—especially when it’s involved with accidents that hurt non-mutants—will bring a lot of attention to Osborn and his thugs. Investigations get launched, inquiries, red tape goes up everywhere and takes time and money and that hits these fuckers where it hurts the most.”

                “You sound like Scott right now.”

                Logan looked up from the file sheet and blinked at her. “Fuck. You’re right.” He stood up, “I need to go stab something.”

 

                ***

 

                In the infirmary, Scott woke abruptly from a sound sleep. The room was quiet except for the faint drone of monitors and machines that hummed in the background.

                The overwhelming voices that had filled his mind hours before were gone now. Calm had been restored and he felt for the first time in days that he was able to think clearly. He sat up, pulling off the sensor stickers McCoy had placed upon his skin and slipping out of bed. The weakness was gone and he could walk easily. He still had no need for his visor; his power felt perfectly in his control.  He slipped out of the isolate and found Hank asleep at his desk, which was no surprise.

                The large blue-furred feral did not stir at his presence, and Scott watched him for a few seconds, trying to be certain how deeply asleep he was.  Without effort, he found his thoughts reaching for Hank’s and finding them scattered in dream state, completely unaware of his presence.

                Scott withdrew, turning away and made for the lab doors. He slipped through the rest of the infirmary to find the remaining X-Men also fitfully asleep. He paused at the foot of Bobby and Kurt’s beds, reaching out telepathically as he had before with Hank.

                But this time he found himself scanning rapidly through their short-term memory, picking out pieces of the day’s events that had become a blur to him, and what had transpired since.

                After a moment he withdrew, trying to discern his next move. He felt an uncomfortable and insistent craving in his core, a hunger he was growing more and more familiar with. A need he began to associate with Remy LeBeau’s presence.

                He moved hastily from the infirmary, his new powers reaching out through the whole of the house, looking for Gambit. But it was difficult, as Remy’s mind wasn’t easily reached by these abilities. Instead of thoughts to latch on to, Scott found himself seeking out an energy signature, that familiar static that he had so briefly encountered before.

                It didn’t take him long to lock on to it, and he found himself relieved that he LeBeau seemed to still be in the main house, rather than across the grounds in his usual dwelling.

                Moving with a stealthiest that hadn’t known he possessed, Scott found his way to his team mate, discovering him lying stretched on his preferred sofa in the common room, asleep.

                He came to stand at the back of sofa, looking down at the sleeping man, feeling that hunger cut him more deeply than ever. He wanted to touch him, to engage that link that formed between them again. He needed it, as desperately as if he had been holding his breath.  It frightened him.

                Hesitantly he gave it, reaching out a hand and letting his fingers brush across Gambit’s shoulder lightly. He gasped in spite of himself when he felt a little jolt ripple through his fingers, like an electric shock. His heart started to race and his eyes widened.

                _Tap into his energy, you need it. Take it._

                Scott withdrew his hand as though he had been burned. The intrusive thoughts had returned.

                _“What? What are you asking me to--?”_

                _You’re weak. This body is weak. It doesn’t have to be. He can help you._

                “Shut up…” Scott muttered. “That doesn’t make sense. I feel fine. I’m fine.”

                “Scott?”

                Startled, he looked down to see Gambit looking up at him from the cushions, sleepy and confused. “Mon ami…what time is it? Who are you talking to?”

                “No one. I’m sorry I woke you.” He apologized quickly. Gambit gave him a tired, forlorn glance under the fringe of the hair dangling in his eyes. “What are you doing out here?”

                “I was waiting up for Logan, but guess I drifted off.” He answered, then looked at Scott more closely. “But I could ask you the same question. You seem…fine now. What happened?”

                Summers smiled at him. “Hank knows how to patch up just about anything…but I think I have you to thank the most. You brought me out of that mess…I thought I was going crazy.”

                Gambit smiled in return, but it was far from its usual brilliance. “Glad someone’s pleased wit me.”

                “What?”

                “Nevermind,” he answered absently. He looked at the clock and frowned. “Where could he be so late?”

                “What did he leave for?” Scott asked, voice taking on a slightly stiffer tone now.

                “Not really sure myself…guess he wanted to speak wit de police about de ungrateful asshole who’s been blasting us on de local news. Though I don’t know what good it will do.”

                Cyclops mulled this over a moment, thoughts racing as he riffled through the details of the man they had rescued from the top floor of the burning building. Indeed there had been something off about him, he had been so terrified of Scott coming into the apartment. He had assumed it was just the man’s hatred of Mutants but now that he had a bit more time to think…

                He found he could recall details now that he hadn’t before, as if he were reviewing the footage of a movie. The man had been adamant about not letting Scott deeper into the apartment, and had said nothing about his own son who was still in the bedroom. This was not just fear of Mutants, this behavior spoke of something more. Something that Wolverine must have sensed as well.

                He glanced at Gambit then, who had been able to delve deeper into the apartment than he had, had seen more, had more details.

                “Remy, did you see anything strange in that apartment when we were there?”

                “Besides a father who was more concerned about keeping us out than saving his own child? A lot of tacky furniture I suppose…”

                “Maybe you thought you didn’t. But I bet you saw more than you realized,”

                Gambit raised his brow, “What--?”

                Scott moved to sit beside him, “I need to see your memories, Remy.”

                The other man recoiled, “Non, I don’t—“

                Scott didn’t wait for permission. He took hold of Remy’s shoulder to hold him in place, and reached out with his mind. Gambit visibly flinched, trying to pull away as a familiar, intrusive pain ripped through his skull, forcing its way through the wall around his mind.

                “Stop! It hurts!”

                “I’m sorry,” Scott insisted, pressing further. The wall, which had seemed impenetrable before, yielded under more focused concentration. Gambit’s memories opened before him and Scott found himself slipping effortlessly into his perspective. What LeBeau had witnessed inside the burning dwelling was not much different from what Scott had seen, but as Remy had rushed into the hall towards the boy’s room something appeared out of the corner of his eye.

                Scott found himself able to freeze things within the moment, studying the room more intently. There were canisters pushed into the corner of the hallway; small ones that looked like they could have been portable oxygen tanks. Yet suspiciously, he saw no hoses, or tubing that would have come with such an item. The cans were surprisingly blank.

                He tried to sharpen the image, have a closer look, but as he did he felt a ripple of anguish spread through his being, and he knew it wasn’t his own. This sort of invasion was taxing, stressful, even torturous to the mind he was invading so thoughtlessly.

                _What am I doing!?_

                He withdrew abruptly, finding himself falling back to the present and himself.

                “Remy!”

                Gambit collapsed against him with a groan, boneless and breathing hard. Scott caught him and held him tightly. “No! Oh Remy I’m so sorry I didn’t want…” he found himself connecting again without meaning to, not telepathically but empathically this time. He could feel the current of Remy’s energy, though it was weak and muted at the moment in his unconscious state.

                “No no, I don’t want—“

                But it was too late, Scott could feel himself tapping into LeBeau’s energy source, rechanneling it into himself. The unnamed craving inside him suddenly swelled, as if it had finally found what it needed to sate itself. Scott could feel Gambit’s energy filling him, changing him, accelerating something inside him so that he felt hot and electrified. He was suddenly aware of every being in the house, then beyond the house. He became aware of every heartbeat of every living thing in the surrounding acres of land, reaching out farther and farther into the suburbs and into the town. Scott was aware of hundreds and hundreds of thoughts, of heart beats, of energies…but none caught his attention save for those that were like his own. Other mutants. Some aware of their powers, others still undiscovered.

                It was as if he were inside Cerebro, but magnified, sharpened. It was not a vague presence he could sense, but each individual being in all their complexities.

                This was Xavier’s power, but much-much greater. This was what Xavier _could_ be if he were not bogged down by his own frailties. This was the feeling of being limitless…

                _“Stop…_ ”

                He could feel Remy shaking in his hands. He was doing something horrible to him, though what he didn’t quite understand.

                With an effort he withdrew, pulling away from the enticing lure of the lives beyond his own, withdrawing back into himself.

                Gasping, he broke contact with Gambit completely, allowing him to fall fully onto the couch. Scott scrambled away from him, for a moment terrified. The man didn’t move, and if it were not for the faint rise and fall of his ribs Summers would have sworn he’d killed him.

                He reached for him, but stopped.

                His thoughts shifted back to what he had seen in Gambit’s mind, and then to the other minds he had touched unexpectedly. One of them had been Logan’s.

                Forgetting his unintended victim for the moment, Scott found himself compelled to refocus his attention on Logan’s thoughts. It took little effort to reach the man’s mind, even less to learn everything he knew about the situation.

                A dark, unsettling calm fell over Scott. He looked down at Gambit’s collapsed figure on the couch again and pressed his fingers lightly against the man’s forehead. “Sleep and forget.”

                He looked at Remy a moment longer, feeling a distant twinge of remorse. “Thank you for your help. I promise I won’t let this gift you’ve given me go to waste. No more Mutants will suffer from the hands of this coward.”

 

***


	7. Chapter 7

 

**

 

                Miles away, in downtown Salem Center, Logan and Jubilee had just found their way to where Leon Marcus was currently holed up.  

                They watched him from a street corner adjacent to the building where he was staying. Obviously, the man cared little about privacy, or felt just comfortable enough not to worry about shutting his blinds.

                For all the complaining the man had done on the air about having his home burn to the ground, he hadn’t seemed to have had much trouble finding somewhere else to set up shop. Logan’s sensitive hearing could pick up sounds of the man’s voice grumbling and snarling in conversation, though he could not tell with whom.

                “We need a closer look,” he nodded to his charge, who had been watching the window through a pair of binoculars.  “See anything interesting up there, Jubes?”

                “Tacky wallpaper, crappy lighting, not much else. But aren’t you afraid he’ll try and bolt?”

                “He could try,” Logan answered. “But ain’t gonna get far.”

                “What if he’s got more of that gas?”

                Wolverine looked at her seriously. “I won’t let you get hurt, darlin’. You’re staying out in the hall.”

                “No way!”

                “No buts, firecracker. Besides, I need you to cover my back while I’m in there dealing with the bastard. If he’s working with big leaguers like Osborn and his cronies, there’s a very good chance he’ll be expecting trouble.”

                They stashed his bike in a narrow alley behind a dumpster before heading across the street towards the building. The front door was locked, but there was no doorman. It took little work for Logan to jimmy the lock open allowing them to slip into the dank, musky corridor that lead between the apartment floors.

                They followed the sound of the man’s grating voice up the poorly lit stairwell, catching little bits of conversation here and there.

                “…no, I _told_ you, the canisters were completely destroyed! No way it’ll get traced back…you don’t have to worry about the boys, they’re too dumb and too scared to say anything that will get them in more trouble with the police…yeah…yeah, well I didn’t exactly see you rushing in to deal with the problem, now did I?! You owe me, you understand? I’m betting the gas did in a couple of those X-Men. I think I deserve a bonus for getting those weirdos off your back!”

                The feral Mutant snarled silently outside the door. Though the mixed smells of mildew, stale beer and cigarette smoke muddled his senses, he could still detect only the man inside the apartment, his son must have gone elsewhere.

                He glanced over his shoulder at Jubilee, nodding to her quietly. The girl took a few steps back, receding deeper into the shadow of the hallway where she would not be immediately seen from the stairwell or the door.

                He knocked on the door and heard the man on the other side give a sharp pause before adding; “I’ll call you back.”

                Footsteps moved towards the door, hesitating only for a moment in between. Logan knew that slight hesitation could mean he was arming himself. His footfalls stopped in front of the door and Wolverine remained still as he heard the man turn over the lock and push the heavy door open as far as the latch chain would allow.

                “Who is it?”

                Wolverine’s thick hand came around and grabbed the edge, giving the door a hard push which made the man curse as he was struck and thrown backwards. The latch chain snapped and the frame splintered under the forced entry, causing the door to dangle on the now warped hinge.

                The man on the floor scrambled for a hand gun, which Logan kicked out of his reach before setting his boot heel down on his grasping fingers. “I wouldn’t make any sudden moves if I was you, bub.” He warned, claws unsheathing themselves as he glared down at him. “I got a hair trigger ya see.”

                “What do you want?!”

                He bent, retracted the claws of one hand and dragged the squirming figure up from the floor by the neck of his undershirt, slamming him against the wall hard enough to make the plaster crack.

                “Don’t kill me!”

                “You’d better give me a damn good reason not to, bub. Let’s start with giving up your supplier. How much did Osborn pay you to make those bombs hmm? He making any similar offers to low-lives like you?”

                “Wh-what are you?”

                “Oscorp supplied you the chemicals, dumbass! I’m gonna drag your sorry ass down to the police station and you’re gonna spill your guts since you seem to be so good at.”

                The man shook his shaggy head, “No! I won’t!”

                The cold adamantium of Wolverine’s claws was against his belly, poking through the sweat-stained fabric of his clothes and pricking his skin. “Then I’m gonna spill yer guts all over the floor.”

                “No, don’t!”

                Logan started to speak again but paused, lifting his gaze from the criminal before him and turning to look towards the window at the opposite end of the room. A light was growing there, illuminating the buildings and street beyond with increasing brightness and speed. He could smell something strange, something hot and burning.

                The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end, and the man before him was quickly forgotten, left to slide down wall to the floor. The light outside was white hot and shimmering with heat.

                “Jubilee--!”

                His warning was cut short as he felt a spike of pain rip through his head. A second later he sagged boneless to the floor, unconscious.

                Jubilee appeared in the doorway in time to see him fall and rushed him immediately. “Logan!”

                Marcus saw his opening and reached for his gun, aiming to off his identifiers before they had a chance to run for the police. But the thought was obliterated a moment later as what appeared to be a flaming ball of fire crashed through his apartment window.

                Jubilee screamed and laid herself over Logan’s prone figure, trying to shield them both from the surge of scorching air that rippled through the small space. Marcus was swearing and shouting in terror next to them, but she couldn’t bare the brightness or the heat and so did not open her eyes.

                Fumbling to the best of her ability, she grabbed her mentor under the arms and dragged him out into the hallway, refusing to look behind her. She managed to drag Wolverine’s heavy frame out of the doorway, only to have the door slam itself shut behind her.

                She whirled then, hearing the man on the other side screaming. She reached for the knob and tried to pry it open, but it scorched her hands, making her cry out and fall back, looking at her bright red and blistered palms.

                The walls in front of them shook and trembled, yet no one else in the building seemed to be aware of the danger. There was a bright flash from behind the door, and Jubilee cried out again, only to feel Logan’s arm wrap around her middle and yank her down onto the steps, covering her with his body as burning light and heat rushed across the threshold, making the air around the crackle and hiss.

                The girl below him grit her teeth and gripped his shirt tight in her throbbing, aching hands, face pressed hard against his chest in terror. Logan had one hand cupped at the back of her head, the other bracing his protective stance over her, but she could feel his muscles hard and tight like violin strings as he tried to brace himself.

                Seconds ticked by, and the heat rolled off them and then vanished. Panting, Wolverine lifted his head slowly and looked above the edge of the top step, where he could make out the remains of the apartment door. It was around the edges, and the paint was peeling from the door itself. But there was no smell of smoke or ash.

                Slowly he eased himself up further, keeping the girl clutched close to him. He waited for the sound of the other tenants rushing to see what was wrong, or the fire alarm to be sounded. But there was nothing now but eerie silence in the hot dry air that filled the otherwise empty hallway.

                Jubilee sniffled painfully, drawing his attention back to her momentarily, and he looked down to see that she was struggling to hold back sobs, her wounded hands raw and red. He hugged her hard in remorse and kissed her cheeks. “You’ll be okay, darlin’. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

                She shook her head and he kissed her again, shifting her to the edge of the stairwell. “Stay right here. I need to see what’s going on.”

                “Logan no!”

                “Shh! Trust me, alright? Stay put.”

                He moved carefully back up the steps, moving to stand in front of the sorched door. He could see that knob was still glowing red hot and that the numbers that had been nailed to it were now warped and melting. He looked left and then right down the hall. There was still no disturbance from either end.

                He could hear his heart thudding in his ears, cold sweat on the back of his neck. He nudged the door with the toe of his foot and it creaked open, still dangling awkwardly on the broken hinge. Holding his breath, Wolverine peered into the threshold.

                It looked as if a bomb had exploded inside, obliterating the furnishings and yet leaving the walls astonishingly intact. He took another cautious step forward, eyes turned now towards where he had last left Marcus and then stilled.

                There was a blackened, charred body crumpled on the floor, leaving a stark outline of where it had stood in its last moments. The remains were black, ashen and smoldering. Logan swallowed dryly and turned away, a wave of nausea hitting him as he suddenly remembered other times in history when he’d seen bodies rendered this way by bombs.

                Jubilee was standing at the top of the stairs, ignoring orders as usual. He moved towards her, putting an arm around her and steering her down the stairs.

                “What happened Where’s Marcus?”

                “Keep moving,” he mumbled. They trotted down the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible, making a bee-line for the front door. Glancing up, he spotted a singular security camera perched above the door. With a grunt he raised and claw and severed it from its perch, letting it crash to the ground before stomping on it.

                “What’s going on?” she asked again. “Logan, I’m scared.”

                He ushered her outside and darted across the street, keeping his eyes forward, careful not draw suspicion as they moved towards where his bike was stashed. Only once they had crossed the road did he look back towards the building, setting his eyes on the window he had spotted Marcus in previously. Sure enough, just like the door, the frame and brick surrounding it was blackened and scorched and the glass had knocked out entirely.  But no one on street seemed to have noticed yet, as there was no broken glass lying below on the road, or any other sign of disturbance.

                To his further bewilderment, he could see people moving around in other windows, who appeared to have been wholly unaffected by the murder that had taken place less than a hundred feet from them.

                He nudged Jubilee into the alley and paused to have a better look at her hands. “How’d this happen? One second I’m about to tear that creep apart and the next…”

                “You passed out,” she answered.

                “But why? Did you see?”

                “I just saw a light. Something broke through the window and it was filling up the whole place with light and heat… I dragged you out the door but then it shut by itself and I heard screaming—“ she hiccupped on a petrified sob and he hugged her tight again, careful of her injuries.

                “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Yer safe with me, Jubes.” He promised, but even as he spoke the words he felt his confidence shaken. He remembered seeing the same light she had described come through the window, but then—it was like someone had flipped a switch, turned him off. It was terrifying.

                He climbed back onto his bike, making sure that Jubilee was positioned securely behind him and then pulled out into the street, just in time to see the first bystanders taking notice of the burned window. Setting his jaw, he picked up the acceleration and headed towards home.

 

***

 

                They arrived back at the mansion to the stillness and silence expected for such a late hour. Logan guided Jubilee into the pantry off the main kitchen, where he knew a first aid kit had been stashed.

                He knelt in front of her on the floor, swabbing her raw palms with balm and covering them loosely with gauze to protect them. Both of them had been utterly silent during the drive home, questions hanging heavy but unspoken over their heads; one afraid to ask, the other afraid of the answers.

                He sat back on his heels, taping off the end of the gauze with a sigh. “That’ll do until Hank can take a look in the morning.” He pulled out a bottle of pain pills and offered her two, which she swallowed down with a gulp of sports drink, which he held for her. She nodded in appreciation and he sunk back against the shelf, hand to his forehead, eyes screwed tight as though wincing. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have dragged you there.”

                “You didn’t exactly drag me.” She replied. “What happened to Marcus?” she ventured then, biting her lip nervously.

                “He’s dead.”

                She drew her knees up to her chest as she huddled on the bench, staring off across the tiny pantry, trying to distract herself by counting the dozens of various cereal boxes that lined the shelf in front of her.

                “What do we do now?”

                “I don’t know. We weren’t seen, which is a small blessing and that security camera was at least a decade old, there was a tape inside. No one will know we were there.”

                “But shouldn’t we tell someone what happened?”

                He looked at her seriously. “Do _you_ know what happened?”

                She chewed her lip again and slowly shook her head.

                “Exactly. For right now we keep our mouth shut. In fact, you keep it shut all together. This is on me, and whatever happens I don’t want you getting dragged into it.”

                “Well you’re going to have fun explaining the part where you were down for the count. What happened—did Marcus hit you?”

                “Naw. Was like someone flipped a switch and shut me down. All I remember is something coming through the window and then my skull throbbing,” he trailed off, frowning in thought. “Jubes, did you see anything besides the light? You went in there to get me out, did you see anything?”

                The girl shook her head, “No it was too bright and hot. I heard Marcus screaming a lot but…I don’t remember much of what he said.”

                “’S’alright darlin’. You did good.”

                He stood and pulled her up as well, guiding her through the dark house towards her room. He lingered outside her door until he heard her settle into bed and then resigned himself to waiting out the rest of the night with his partners.

                He started towards the stairs, heading to the attic. But as he made to climb up, he sensed a disturbance below him, and glanced back. His keen eyes caught a passing shadow as it moved across the lower floor. While it was not unusual for at least one or two of the students or staff to be awake or even wandering at this hour, Logan knew immediately that this was strange.

                He stepped back, forgetting the attic for the moment and stalked quietly towards the lower floor where the shadow had vanished. Stepping down onto the main floor, he caught a shape standing in the middle of open visitor’s area.

                Logan knew him even in the dark, not just by shape and smell but by the sound of his heartbeat. Scott was standing there with his back turned to him, seeming to stare off into the dark at nothing. Logan’s heightened senses immediately picked up on something strange about his team mate’s smell; it was hot, like the man was burning with fever and tinged with something that seemed like smoke.

                Scott’s head tilted slightly. “I can hear you breathing, Wolverine.”

                The other didn’t answer at first, remaining very still. Something seemed very wrong with this situation, but Logan couldn’t put his finger on why. Moreover, he was not looking for another fight that night.

                “Kinda late for a stroll, ain’t it?”

                “I thought stretching my legs would help me clear my head. You know how it is, when something’s gnawing at you and just seem to shake it?”

                Logan didn’t rise to the bait, instead keeping his distance. “You can hate me all you like, Scott. In fact, yer turning it into an art form. But it’s not doing you any favors. Believe it or not, I don’t like seeing you suffer.”

                “You don’t know what suffering is.”

                Logan bristled, but again held his ground. “Listen here, boy scout, you’re walking around here acting like you’re the first person to ever have their world torn down around them and I’m about sick of it—“

                Scott turned and looked at him fully and the expression on his face was unnerving. “That’s right. You’ve had your world torn down and rebuilt so many times. I wonder if you even remember all of them? The people who got caught up in your path of destruction. Centuries worth of ruined lives. All because of you. And now you’re starting over again aren’t you? I wonder if they know your confessions of love are second hand promises. What do they mean when you have a miserable eternity ahead of you, and their doomed to be nothing more than foot note in your history?”

                Logan felt cold, his throat tight. “What is it that ye want? To see me in a grave? Better men than you have tried. Hell, even I’ve tried.”

                “Try harder.”

                He didn’t say anything else, finally disappearing through the other end of the room, leaving Logan alone, feeling sick and shaken.

 

***


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

***

                McCoy woke from his desk, stiff necked and aching. He had dozed off in the middle of work again, and frowned when he found his notes smudged and smeared where he had inadvertently drooled on them. With a grumble he pushed himself up from his chair, feeling all his stiff muscles announce themselves in orders and flexed with a muted roar, trying to rectify the matter.

                Once he’d stretched out most of the kinks, he found his glasses from the desk and turned to check on his remaining patients. Shuffling into Scott’s isolate, his blood-shot eyes were met with a rather displeasing sight. Scott was nowhere in sight.

                Hank felt a pinch of anxiety raise in his chest, but he muffled his innate urge to panic and simply grunted quietly. It seemed to be a new habit of his patients to discharge themselves without so much as a nod to him. Frankly, it was really beginning to grate his nerves.

                If nothing else, he hoped that Scott’s absence meant that the man was at least feeling stronger and healthier. He was sure he was about to discover either way as he made his way out into the main infirmary, where Bobby and Kurt had both spent the night recovering.

                Both younger members of the team were exactly where he had left them, sleeping soundly in the early morning light. He was pleasantly surprised at this, and then noted that he did indeed have another addition to the room though it wasn’t whom he expected.

                Storm was curled up on one of the unused beds, awake but seemingly a million miles away, staring off out the window and rocking back and forth restlessly.

                “Ororo?” he moved cautiously towards her, and at first she didn’t acknowledge his presence. “Are you alright?”

                She turned and looked at him, wild eyed and fidgeting nervously, long fingers drumming across her knees. “What time is it?”

                “Early. Even for you.” He sat down beside her tentatively and looked at her closely. “Have you not slept at all?”

                “I’m not tired.”

                Hank touched her arm lightly and felt how taught it was. “You’re coiled like a spring…did something happen?”

                “Remy and I had sex. Then we had an argument. He left to wait up for Logan. I wanted to go talk to him, but it didn’t seem the time, so I tried to paint to take my mind off things. But that didn’t help, so I started cleaning…when I finished the attic I moved down to the class room, and then I organized Scott’s office and then I started on Jean’s but I…” she held her head as if trying to actively put the breaks on her speech, “and then I got upset and I came here. But I can’t sleep. I want to, but I can’t. My mind won’t stop. There is not quiet any more.”

                Hank was quiet for a moment, taking this all in. “Ororo, are you still taking any of your medication? I know it’s been some time since we discussed it…”

                “I haven’t needed it in a while. I’ve been fine, I’ve been managing.”

                “Have you? Things have been so stressful lately and that can trigger manic episodes—“

                “I’m not manic!” she snapped, her eyes going stark white and the air around her becoming hot and electric, causing all of Hank’s machinery to flicker and sputter, power cutting in and out. McCoy braced himself, feeling is fur frizz and stand on end.

                The sliding doors to the infirmary opened then and Cyclops stepped inside, surprising them both. “Everything okay in here, Hank? I thought I heard shouting.”

                Beast squinted at him in surprise, noting that the man seemed to have recovered from his harrowing ordeal overnight.

                “Scott, this is a personal matter. I think it best you wait outside.”

                “Is that what you think, Ororo? Do you want me to leave?”

                She looked at him strangely, “You don’t need to leave, Scott. Hank and I don’t have anything to discuss,” she added, making the blue-furred doctor frown.

                “Ro, you’re not well. Some sleep at the very least will—“

                “Don’t those pointy little cat ears of your work?” Scott said then, surprising them a second time. “She said there’s nothing to talk about. I think you ought to listen, instead of always assuming you know best. That attitude hasn’t worked out very well for you lately.”

                McCoy rose slowly, “I know you like to think of me as a doormat, Summers, but I assure you I can be quite unpleasant when tested. I asked you to leave. I won’t repeat myself.”

                Scott stood still, looking vaguely confused. He wasn’t sure why he was antagonizing Hank or even how he had gotten into the infirmary to begin with. He fumbled for an apology, “Easy big guy. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

                Hank paused, looking from him to Storm suspiciously. “This pattern of behavior is beginning to alarm me,” he noted. “I think we all need to take a step back and collect ourselves.”

                Summers nodded and sat down next to Storm. “Ro, I had no idea you were struggling. Why haven’t you said something before?”

                “It’s not your business,” she muttered, then frowned, rubbing her head, once more trying to reign in the rage that was boiling under her surface, threatening to erupt. “Just because we’re teammates doesn’t mean we have to know everything about each other.”

                 He looked at her intently for a moment, his new telepathic ability reaching out to touch her mind, tapping into the agitated and overstimulated chaos inside. Something inside him felt a thrill go through him at the exposure, as if hungry to feed off the energy.

                This made him pull back, but not before catching a glimpse of the source behind her current turmoil. He blinked, refocusing himself, and his concerned demeanor became cold. His gaze flickered from Munroe to McCoy before speaking.

                “I wouldn’t count on him to be much help to you right now, Ro. Hank’s good at putting a patch on things, but when it comes to really getting his hands dirty he’s a bit shy.”

                Hank drew himself up to full height, chest inflating as his ears flattened against his head, nostrils flared. “Pardon me?” his voice was an animalistic snarl.

                “I’m just saying that you fix flesh and bone, but you’re worthless when it comes to the mind. Your science fails you when faced with illogical human behavior. Those problems you tend to leave to Charles, who doesn’t so much cure as manipulate.”

                “ENOUGH!”

                Storm covered her ears, trying to shut out the sound. Her nerves felt like they were on edge and everything was too loud, too fast, too bright. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. The air around her began to crackle and sizzle in her panic.

                “Stop! STOP!” she shrieked. She kicked out at Scott, sending him stumbling away, looking at him as if she didn’t see her friend at all but some sort of monster. “GET AWAY FROM ME! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

                Hank put his big arms around her and glared hard at Summers. “Get out of my Infirmary.”

                “Whoa, what’d I miss?” Bobby’s voice said behind them suddenly, drawing Scott’s attention from the angry feral and destressed woman clutched in his massive paws.

                Ice Man was cautiously slipping from his bed, coming to stand in aisle between them. “Wow, sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed.” He moved past Hank and cautiously took Scott’s arm, noting that the team leader was still staring down the scientist.

                “Come on, big guy, let’s take a walk huh? I don’t know about you but I could use some coffee and fresh air.”

                Scott said nothing but did not actively resist and so Bobby guided him from the room, not daring to look back at Hank and Ororo.

 

                Only once they were completely clear of lab and making their way down the hall into the main house did Bobby speak again. “Scott…look I know I didn’t catch all of that conversation, but that was _vicious_. Hank used to be one of your best friends.”

                “Friends don’t lie to you for months on end. Friends don’t help tear down someone you love.”

                Bobby cringed and turned to look at Scott more fully, “You have to let it go. Please, _please_ , Scott.  Look at what it’s doing to you! You’re picking fights with everyone, walking around like a corpse—you have all these new powers, do you even _care_ what you can do with them?! Or how to control them!?”

                “Leave me alone, Bobby.”

                “Jean died—YOU didn’t!”

                And suddenly Scott was startled back to himself, the burning, venomous thoughts in his mind banished. He looked at Bobby with wide blue eyes, face pale. For a moment neither of them spoke for a moment, the air heavy between them.

                Drake hugged him unexpectedly, crushing himself hard against Scott’s taller frame. “Just come back to us, okay? I—we—miss you.”

                Cyclops didn’t say anything, standing awkwardly in Bobby’s embrace for a moment before carefully extracting himself. “I know you mean well, but you can’t help me.”

                “Why not?” he demanded, hearing his voice rise bitterly. “Why can’t I help!? You’re shoving away all your friends, people who have known you for years! Everyone except freakin’ _Gambit_!” He felt splinters of ice creeping up his arms and neck as his temper and emotions started to boil over. “What’s so damn special about him? The stupid accent? Are you trying to get some sort of revenge fuck out of him to get back at Wolverine, cause I think you’ve done that already!”

                “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

                “Then tell me Scott! TELL ME! Why him!?” Bobby grabbed him and shook him. “Is it his Charm? It is, isn’t it?”

                Scott’s blue eyes pierced him and Bobby suddenly found himself missing the visor. “You’re acting like a jealous teenager. What happens between me and Gambit is no concern of yours.”

                He moved past him, leaving Bobby standing in the hall, winded, his body slowly icing over.

 

***

 

                Gambit woke up late, finding himself back in Logan’s old bedroom, in his old bed. He felt heavy and disoriented, lying still as he tried to reconcile how he had gotten from the common room couch to here.

                He rolled over quietly to find that he was not alone. Logan was standing at the bedroom window, staring out at the lawn, sipping coffee. On the leather chair next to him were the kittens, sleeping soundly in their basket, Wolverine absently scratching behind the grey one’s ear. The feral of course heard his movements and turned to look at him.

                “Logan?” Remy mumbled, voice thick and cracked from heavy sleep. He rubbed his head as his mate came to sit beside him, pulling him into his arms and kissing him.  

                “I’m here, darlin’. You feelin’ alright?”

                “Mmm…guess so.” The Cajun mumbled, blinking around the room. “What are we doing in here?”

                “Well, I got in late and found you on the couch. Frankly I didn’t feel like carrying yer lanky limbs up four flights of stairs.“ he kissed him again, and Remy sensed there was an added tinge of neediness in his touch.

                “Is dat really all? Or did you talk to Ro?”

                “I haven’t seen Ro, she was gone when I checked the attic, figured she went out for a night flight. Helps her sometimes when she’s like this.”

                “And what is dis exactly?”

                “I dunno…restless I guess. Ain’t nobody can be cool and collected all the time, Cajun, you know that. Stormy gets…well… _stormy_ from time to time.” He looked at Remy a bit closer. “Something happen between you two?”

                Gambit sighed, trying to decide where to begin. “I’m used to you and Ro being over protective of me by now. It’s just in your natures, ‘suppose. But I really thought…dat is I always thought of de two of you, Storm had a little more faith in my abilities.”

                Logan nodded thoughtfully, “Well, I suppose I can’t argue there. But I know better now.”

                “Oui, but Stormy…she been acting a bit more den possessive lately. I t’ink…she’s having a hard time dealing wit what happened between me and Scott.”

                He waited to see if Logan would agree, as if he had known this issue would arise eventually. But instead he looked genuinely surprised. “Why would you think that? What happened wasn’t your fault.”

                “Wasn’t it?”

                Wolverine looked closer. “Remy, no. _No_. Jean—Phoenix—manipulated you. You and Scott both. Even a telepath like Charles couldn’t resist her control, why should you be accountable?”

                Remy simply hugged him in response and Logan held him tight. The pair said nothing for a time, and when Logan finally pulled away he kissed his lover again and tugged him from the bed. “Come on, let’s get something to eat. Can’t hide up here forever.”

                “Suppose not.” Gambit admitted.

                They headed down towards the kitchen and common areas, hand in hand and Remy again noticed that his lover seemed more on guard than usual. “What kept you out so late, cher? You didn’t start another bar fight did you?”

                Logan shrugged, “Jubilee and I went joyriding around town, stopped to talk to the cops about the asshole running his mouth, but didn’t get very far.”

                “Hmm.” He could already tell it was a lie, or rather a cover. “Well I hope you got it out of your system. People like dat ain’t worth de time and energy chasing around. What’s de saying? Haters gonna hate.”

                “Ugh, no. Just no.”

                “Aw, Jubilee would approve.”

                It was almost noon now, and most of the remaining students were off campus getting a bit to eat, leaving the house quieter.

                But despite the relative calm in the house, the scene before them wasn’t exactly peaceful. Scott was sitting at the table, eating breakfast as though his critical state last night had been as meaningless as headache. Indeed he looked healthier than he had in sometime, and his face gave no indication of his previous morose mood.

                He smiled at them, almost flaunting the fact that he no longer had need of his visor. “Good morning lazy bones,” he grinned. “About time you emerged from your burrow. Have a good night’s sleep?” His gaze lingered on Logan a second longer before he took another bite of his food.

                Logan said nothing, remembering clearly their unsettling conversation.

                “Seems like you must have, homme. You look better! Better dan better actually…” Remy mused, his eyes lingering over Scott for a moment or two. Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or had the man actually developed more tone and muscle seemingly overnight?

                Gambit decided he needed caffeine more urgently than previously suggested and poured himself a large cup.

                “Where is everyone?”

                “Busy with things. How are the kittens?”

                “Dey seem to be fine, were sleeping last I looked. Though I worry dey’ve gotten a bit attached to me.”

                “Well of course. What’s not to like?” Scott smiled a bit brighter.

                Remy gave a little laugh, but Logan simply continued to eye Scott silently. The brunette took another bite of his breakfast. “There’s a training session scheduled later on the grounds. Your team verses mine. Are you still up for it?”

                “Any time any place.” Came the gruff answer. Remy put his hand on Logan’s shoulder to calm him and looked to Scott as if in warning.

                “Easy, boys. I t’ink pitting you two against each other right now would be askin’ for trouble. In fact, I’m pretty sure Warren and Piotr took that training slot, considering everything dat happened yesterday.”

                “I appreciate your concern, Remy, but I’m fine now.”

                “No, you’re not.” Gambit said. “You’re compromised, Scott. I don’t t’ink combat of any kind is a good idea until we get you into a better head space.”

                Summers looked like he was about to argue, but another voice cut in.

                “I couldn’t agree with you more, Remy.”

                Xavier appeared in his chair, newspaper in hand as he glided towards the table they were gathered around.  “Scott, all your training sessions have been canceled until both Hank and I certify that you’re fit for action again. You need to rest and reassess your powers. I’ve asked Remy to help you with this.”

                Scott glanced at the man beside and spoke absently, “And how long do you think that will take? A week, a month?”

                “However long it takes for you to go through the grieving process and come to terms with things. If you are to lead this team, I need to know that your judgement isn’t compromised by personal issues. I want you better, Scott.  You’ll come through this alright, I’m sure of it. It’s just going to take time.”

                “Whatever you say, Professor.” He muttered.

                “Good. Logan, as soon as possible I want you round up the rest of the team and meet me in my study. There have been some new developments involving the terrorist incident from yesterday.”

                “Really? Like what?” Scott asked, and Logan thought he saw the man smirk at him.

                Xavier pulled the newspaper from his lap and laid it on table. The front page picture revealed a burned out shell of an apartment building, with officers and MRD agents drifting in and out.

                “It seems Mr. Marcus, the building owner who had such gratitude for us yesterday, has been murdered. And not by any ordinary means. Naturally, the MRD has been brought in to investigate a possible mutant attack. SHIELD is looking into the matter as well, but I expect little help to come from their end.”

                He looked at all of them, Scott who looked at the headlines with vague curiosity, Remy who looked grim, and Logan, who would not look at any of them. “I know I don’t have to explain to you how very serious this is, or how dangerous it will be for us and the students in the coming days. As usual, we are all assumed suspects. We must be very careful now, and try to discern the true source of this attack.”

                “Any ideas? Doesn’t seem like the Brotherhood or any of the usual suspects.”

                “None at the moment. The details of the article are far too vague, I need more information. But in the meantime, I’m implementing a curfew, for students and staff. And I expect it to be followed.”

                “Professor, some of the students are—“

                “I already know, Remy.  Betsy is in the process of collecting them from town. If we must go out, it must be in groups and with an experienced team member to chaperone. I’m going to need everyone’s help with this.”

                “Of course, Professor.”

                “Good, I’ll leave you to it then. Logan, I’ll see you in the study.”

                None of them spoke as he departed again, and Remy looked down with a sigh, realizing his coffee had already grown cold in his hand. “It’s times like dis I miss de Thieves Guild.”

                “Well…since I’m apparently unfit for duty,” Scott grumbled, turning his eyes to Remy again. “I suppose we’d better start our counseling sessions, or whatever. Is that alright with you?”

                “Oui,” he answered a bit quicker than he meant to, because he turned to Logan then. “Dat is if you don’t need me right now, cher.”

                “You go on, we’ll talk later.”

                Gambit nodded and kissed his bristly cheek. “I’m gonna clean up a bit, den how about we meet on de grounds near de green house? I could use some fresh air and sunshine.”

                “Sounds great.”

                He waited until Gambit was out of ear shot and then, smiling to himself, continued his breakfast. But Logan didn’t seem to be in as much of a hurry.

                “Yer up to somethin’.” He muttered.

                “Getting paranoid in your old age, are you?”

                The dark haired man slammed his hand down on the table in front of Scott, rattling his plate and forcing him to look up and meet his gaze. “You know something about that murder. I don’t know how, but you do. I smelled it on you last night; that burning smell. She had the same scent when it started to take her over.”

                “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

                The shorter man grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt and dragged him forward, and Scott’s eyes went from blue to red in an instant, and Logan could see that he was barely holding back his blast, but he didn’t care. “What do you know!? Open your mouth and say something useful why don’t ya?! Or do you wanna let it burn you up until there’s nothing left of you, you damn coward?!”

                “You’re crazy.”

                “I wanna hear you say it! It’s got it’s hooks in ya, and you’re hiding it! I saw the wall, Scott, and I saw what you did to that miserable little fuck Marcus. You’re playing with something you can’t possibly control. You need help!”

                Scott grabbed his hand and twisted it hard, making him cry out, before he was shoved backwards, crashing into counter.

                “I’ve seen what help from you looks like. A couple of claws through the ribs.”

                “Damn you…”

                Cyclops stood up, shaking his head. “You’re losing your mind, Logan. Imagining ghosts. I’m starting to think your head is more screwed up than mine.” He laughed quietly and got up from his seat, ruined meal forgotten.

                Logan watched him leave, breathing hard in an effort to control himself. Attacking Scott wouldn’t do any good now. He needed more proof of what was happening, some way to know for certain if Scott was being controlled by something, or if the man he thought he knew had taken a dark turn for the worst. And he needed to do it before anyone else could get hurt.

 

***

 

                A short time later, a rather sober looking group had collected in Xavier’s study. Hank, Warren, Betsy, Storm, Bobby, Kitty, Kurt and Logan huddled around, waiting for instruction. Most had already heard of what happened in the city.

                “What do you make of it, Charles? Retaliation for the attack on the students earlier?” Angel ventured from his place behind the arm chair where Storm was slumped, looking drained. Logan and Hank were on either side of her, exchanging silent glances.

                “That is my suspicion, yes. But it’s only that. I will need more information before I can discern a more probable cause. I will go into town today with Piotr and Kitty and do a bit of reconnaissance on the building in question. Between the three of us, we should be able to get a better look at the crime scene without drawing too much suspicion.”

                “Are you sure that’s wise Professor?” Braddock asked. “Should you be recognized it could be dangerous.”

                “I have my ways of going unnoticed, never fear. Once I return, with samples from the damage, I’ll have Hank look over them. But damage from the apartment won’t be enough to determine the cause of Mr. Marcus’s demise. A coroner report would be useful.”

                He glanced at Nightcrawler, who cringed. “Me, Professor?”

                “If you are feeling up to it, Kurt. I’ll send Betsy with you, just in case you run into trouble.”

                “We’ll get right on it, Professor.” Pyslocke nodded, standing and ushering Kurt to follow her.

                “Warren, I want you to keep an eye on things beyond the grounds. After an event like this it’s not unusual for some of our disgruntled neighbors to get ideas about attacking us.”

                “Not a problem, sir.” He, Colossus and Shadow Cat excused themselves as well, leaving the remainder looking rather unsettled.

                Charles didn’t say anything at first, glancing between them. Bobby shivered almost unconsciously, uncomfortable with the idea that Xavier might be probing his mind.

                “Any particular reason we’re on the bench this time, Chuck?” Logan asked, mostly just to break the uncomfortable silence.

                “I wouldn’t put it that way at all. Though I admit, none of you look particularly up to the task at the present.”

                They each seemed to wilt faintly under his criticism.

                “It’s been a long night, Charles.”

                “Indeed. At any rate, you all seem to have plenty on your plate for the moment to deal with. Bobby, I want you on light duty after yesterday. Are you up to handling the student activities for the day?”

                He nodded, surprisingly not objecting to the idea.

                “Storm, Hank…I think you both need a day off. Go get some rest, that’s an order.”

                Neither said anything and quietly excused themselves, Ororo only stopping to allow Logan to kiss her before vanishing with Hank, his arm around her waist.

                Logan flopped down in the chair across from Xavier and eyed him tiredly. “You already know don’t you?” he asked. Xavier said nothing, which only irked him more. “Christ, I hate it when you’re cryptic. It gets old really fast. You know about last night—so what’s the point of the goose chase yer sending the rest of the team on?”

                “Gathering facts rather than just theories is hardly wasteful.”

                “Then why not send me with the Elf and Pyslocke? Be a lot faster.”

                “Because you have another assignment. And I think you’re keen to stay close to home just now.”

                Wolverine sat forward, looking at Charles more directly. “You think he did it.”

                “I don’t know that. And I desperately and truly do not want to believe it. And I know you feel the same way.”

                “Just confront him.”

                “If I do, it may provoke something beyond my control, or drive him further away. For now, we act as planned. Remy can keep him calm, help him to work through his grief. When his head is clearer, intentions will be as well.”

                “And what if it doesn’t work and LeBeau gets caught in the crossfire?” he hissed.

                “Remy will no doubt sense the danger long before you do. And there isn’t the slightest doubt in my mind that if anything were to go wrong, you would hasten all to his rescue.”

                Logan frowned and finally pushed himself out of his seat. “You’re a champion chess player, ain’t ya, Chuck?”

                Xavier raised a brow curiously. “I—yes, why do you ask?”

                “Cause you treat life like it’s one of your chess games. Problem is, when your pawns get knocked down, they don’t always get up again. And the game doesn’t reset after checkmate. So I hope to hell you know what you’re doing.”

 

***


	9. Chapter 9

 

                Cyclops didn’t have to wait long for Gambit to arrive, and when he did he was surprised that the Cajun didn’t really seem to want to talk much. Instead, he simply asked Scott to take a walk with him across the grounds. There were hiking and running trails past the lake where they were less likely to be disturbed by the students, and would put a bit of distance between them and the rest of the staff.

                “So,” Scott mumbled as they walked, “are you leading me to some spiritual glen where I’ll have an epiphany about my feelings and suddenly all my problems will be solved?”

                “Yeah, no, not so much.” Remy replied, “And I have to say, I never realized what a complete asshole you could be when you’re in the right mood. You got some real venom in dere, don’t ya?”

                “Sorry. It’s not you.”

                “I know it isn’t.” Gambit replied. “But you’re never gonna get back to leadin’ de team if you keep on like dis. I understand you’re frustration wit Charles, but he’s just trying to do what’s best.”

                “He’s not a saint, you know.”

                “Are any of us?” the Cajun replied with a grin, and Scott relaxed a little bit more at the sight of his smile.

                “No, guess not.”

                They walked a little further under the heavy shade of the large green trees along the beaten paths, watching birds and animals skitter away as they passed. It was quiet here and the air was clean and still. Scott paused to look around. “Why’d you bring me all the way out here?”

                “Telepaths are prone to overstimulation—specially new ones like yourself. We have dat in common, I suppose. Much as I enjoy feedin’ off a crowd’s energy, can take a lot out of a man if dey don’t learn to take a break.”

                “You come out here?”

                “What’s so hard to believe? I grew up in a city, but also in de bayou. And at least out here ya don’t have snakes and gators trying to slink along and eat you when you’re not lookin’.” He paused and gathered himself, looking at Scott sternly. “What do you remember about de day she died?”

                “What?”

                “It all happened so fast, but I bet you’ve played every minute of dat day over and over in your head haven’t you? Dissected every second, looking for signs, looking for some way you could have acted differently and saved her.”

                Scott frowned darkly and turned away. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

                Remy sighed. “When my brother was killed, I did the same thing. And I wasn’t even there, ya know. I kept asking myself what would have happened if I had gone on the heist wit him and my father, or if I had insisted dey stay wit me. I was convinced I could have changed t’ings, if I had just tried a little harder, done t’ings a little bit different. But that wasn’t de truth.”

                “And does it make you feel better?”

                “Oh hell no,” Remy laughed. “Dat’s a pain you carry around forever, homme. It’s a helplessness that no one wants to feel. Especially people like us, who maybe have felt it more often den we should. De burden never gets lighter Scott, you just…learn to make room for it in your life. You accept it. And it starts to hurt a little less.”

                “What if you can’t accept it? What if you refuse?”

                “You can’t bring her back, Scott.”

                “What if she—“ he halted abruptly, the words dying on his lips. He was afraid to say them aloud. He covered his mouth with his hand and stared away from his companion, down the hill towards the lake, noting an unsettling tremor in his skin. “Why can’t I let her go?”

                “Maybe you feel guilty. Not because you couldn’t stop the Phoenix from taking over, but because…neither of you got to live the life you deserved because you were holding on so tight to the life you thought you should have together.”

                Scott glanced at him, still somewhat unnerved, eyes glassy. “I don’t know who I am without her.”

                 “Now’s your chance to find out.”

                Remy turned and ushered him further into the woods, away from the path. He hesitated a moment, the followed the auburn man into the thicket. They veered far downhill for a time, and each had to be careful of their footing as the soil was soft and often gave way underfoot. Trees and shrubs grew wild here and they had to twist around and under them to keep going. Scott struggled a bit here and there, but noted that Remy never seemed daunted by being off the beaten path. Odd for a city dweller.

                “Where are we going?”

                “You’ll see. It’s a short-cut.”

                “Are your short-cuts always this difficult?”

                Gambit grinned back at him, “Oh now come on, cher! Don’t tell me you’re ready to give up so easily. Not when I have a surprise.”

                After ducking another low-hanging branch which tunneled into a thicket of ivy and brambles, Scott found himself standing at the foot of the hill and at the edge of Hank’s security fence.

                “Dead end. Was this your surprise?”

                Remy pulled his retractable staff from it’s secured place in belt and tapped the nearly invisible wire, which almost made Scott shout in panic, expecting Gambit to be electrocuted. But nothing happened.

                “I disabled it awhile back.”

                “You…you did what? How?”

                “A swamp fox like me knows you always need an exit strategy. I figured if we ever got in trouble and needed a quick out, this would be it.” He nodded to a small metal clamp that had been placed against the pole. “It’s a disrupter, something I picked up from my daddy’s on my last trip back home. As long as it’s working, the current is disrupted, and Hank’s systems are none the wiser. Otherwise…it turns back into a big ol’ bug zapper.”

                “Clever.” Scott grinned. “Hank won’t be pleased.”

                “Hank doesn’t need to know.”

                They pair slipped over the fence undaunted and continued on their way. From here it was only a short walk to the state route that lead into town.

                “Alright, we’re off the grounds. What now?”

                “We’re gonna head into town, let off a little steam and have a little fun. See what the new and improved Cyclops is all about, non?”

 

**

 

                Fifteen minutes later they were in the middle of Salem Center, blending in seamlessly with crowd. Gambit wore sunglasses to hide his eyes, and Scott put on his ruby quartz ones simply out of habit.

                No one paid them too much attention, just a passing glance here and there. Felt a buzzing awareness of the other thoughts swirling around him, and every now and again would find himself becoming distracted or overwhelmed by the prevailing voices that interrupted his own train of thought. But each time he showed any sign of distress, Remy’s hand would find his and he would be anchored again, pulled back into safe harbor by their empathic link.

                They ducked into a crowded café that was bustling with students and office workers on their lunch hour, and took up a table by the door.

                “If you wanted coffee, we could have gotten it without hitch-hiking into town.”

                “Hush. Caffeine is only my secondary motive here. We’re gonna get you some real-world practice in.” He scanned the crowded room until his eyes settled on a young man at the counter wearing a green beanie. “What’s he thinking right now?”

                “Probably that he’s paying way too much for a latte.”

                Remy nudged him and he relented with a nervous sigh. He set his sights on the young man at the counter, trying to focus his telepathic energy. It was a little bit like tuning the radio. He heard catch fragments of thoughts, but couldn’t quite make a clear connection.

                Then, as though a switch had suddenly been flipped, Scott found himself honed in on the man’s thoughts, hearing them as clearly in his mind as if they were his own.

                _“Aw man, if I’m late for class again Mr. Reese is gonna drop my grade! Why is this taking so looong, oh my god. I wonder if he would believe I had car trouble—“_

Scott disconnected abruptly with faint grin. Tapping into the psychic energies of others was quite a rush. “He’s late for class. Again.”

                “C’est bon! Now, how about the cutie in the corner with the dreadlocks?”

                Scott rolled his eyes and focused on the woman across the aisle from them who was delivering drinks.

                “She’s thinking about her date with her girlfriend tonight. And hoping she gets to break in her new shoes?”

                Gambit laughed. “Well dere you go! Now onto de serious work. Anyone in here thinking about the attack on the apartment building?”

                Scott hesitated, “These are bunch of students. Why would you--?”

                Remy nodded toward the counter at one of the cashiers, a man with slick blonde hair and an expensive looking watch dangling from his wrist. “Dat one’s got a chip on his shoulder and is a bit antsy for his shift to end. Got de feelin’ he’s anxious about meeting someone. Someone he’s afraid of.”

                Scott followed his que, honing in on the cashier. Remy’s empathic predictions were correct—the man was indeed anxious to get to a meeting with someone from New York, someone who had a lot of money to offer him, if he were willing to take a little bit of risk.

                He focused harder, prying into the man’s memories and seeing a phone call from the previous night at an odd hour, detailing not only the explosion at the apartment building the day before but also the apparent murder of the building owner. The cashier was disturbed, shaken. This was not what he had signed up for when he started listening to Marcus go on about getting rid of Muties in their community.

                Scott felt himself growing angry. This festering of hatred within their own community felt like a betrayal. The X-Men had worked so hard to protect everyone, but especially Westchester and Salem Center. These were supposed to be their friends, their neighbors. There was supposed to be tolerance and acceptance here. But the fear spread by Kelly and Trask and others of their ilk was festering like a cancer, poisoning everyone slowly and steadily.

                Humans were stupid. So easily swayed by fear mongering and lies. His anger was growing sharper, hotter.

                The man behind the counter suddenly winced and grabbed his head, catching his co-workers attention. Remy put his hands firmly on Scott’s shoulders and squeezed. “Enough now,”

                Scott blinked back to himself, disengaging with effort. The cashier’s nose was bleeding and he was pale as his friend lead him away from the counter and into the back room.

                “I t’ink we’d better go.”

                The pair made a quick and discrete exit from the café, moving down the sidewalk and dropping onto a bench to allow the brunette to catch his breath.

                “Did I hurt him?”

                “He’ll be fine I t’ink. Maybe we better work on a different power for awhile.” He looked around thoughtfully and spotted the movie theater around the corner. He smiled, “There’s an empty lot back dere, sandwiched between a junk yard and the community center. Let’s head dat way.”

                Scott followed where Remy lead, feeling anxious to be away from crowds. The lot behind the theater was indeed abandoned, full of potholes, weeds and liter that consisted largely of discarded beer bottles and hubcaps.

                There was enough shade from the looming theater house and the trees that grew behind the Community Center to offset the boiling summer heat that radiated from the cement below them. Gambit looked around thoughtfully, surveying the landscape while Scott surveyed him in silence.

                “Let’s start small,” Remy mused, setting his sights on a dumpster behind the theater. “T’ink you can lift it with your mind?”

                Scott was shaken from his private thoughts and blinked, suddenly feeling daunted by the idea. “You mean, just with my thoughts?”

                “Come on, cher, you pushed all of dat rubble out of the way when a freakin’ _building_ fell on you. T’ink you can handle one oversized trash can, n’est pas?”

                Scott nodded and rolled his shoulders, shaking some of the nervousness out of his arms and then focused on the large rusty green dumpster before him. At first nothing happened—telepathy at least gave him a current, a path to follow, by listening into other people’s thoughts. But moving an object with sheer will was something vastly different.

                “Come on Scott, you got dis…”

                Remy’s encouragement spurred him on. He didn’t want to fail in front of him. The dumpster in front of him started to shake faintly, which turned into a violent rattle. It rocked on its wheels for a moment, but then came to stand-still as Scott exhaled loudly, dropping back.

                He sagged slightly, but Gambit was there to brace him. “Come on, homme! You had it! Why did you stop?”

                Scott shook his head, “Look this is new to me okay? What if lose control?”

                “You’ll never _get_ control if you don’t try. Now come on, try again.”

                “I’m not Jean. I don’t know how to—“

                “Damn right you’re not,” Remy said sharply. “You are Scott Summers. You are CYCLOPS. And are you, or are you not, de leader of the X-Men?”

                “Yes.”

                “What was dat? Sounded like a mouse to me.” He grinned.

                “YES!”

                “Den prove it!”

                Emboldened, Scott turned his focus back to the dumpster, which rattled hard and then lifted, first slowly, and then faster, straight into the air and then stalled.

                Behind him Gambit cheered, and Scott grit his teeth, feeling sweat bead his neck as he slowly brought it back down to earth, lost it at the last second, and made it crash, nearly tipping over.

                Both men cringed at the noise, but then laughed.

                Grinning, Scott made a second attempt, this time with more ease. He was able to move the dumpster several feet before disengaging. On the third attempt, he was able to move it all the way to the adjacent lot where the junked cars were, which was behind a chain-link fence.

                “Alright, looks like we got some basic skill wit telekinesis down. Now…what about dat bubble you made around you?”

                “The psionic shield?”

                “Can you duplicate it?”

                He knew better than to argue this time, taking a breath to steady himself. The bubble he had created as the building collapsed had not been with conscious effort. As he had been falling, he had desperately wished for a way to protect himself, and the bubble had formed as a result. It seemed logical to try that same method again.

                He thought about covering and protecting himself, something that would envelope him entirely. There was a shift in the air around him, but nothing formed. He focused harder, needing to please, needing to prove himself.  He could feel Gambit’s eyes on him, and a knot of anxiety appeared in his stomach.

                The air around him crackled, a thin veil seemed to form for a moment, but dissipated just as quickly. Scott tried and tried again, each time growing more frustrated when the attempts failed. His eyes started to change from blue to red again and Remy noticed that blood had begun to appear beneath his nose.

                “Scott—Scott!”

                Cyclops looked up, startled by the urgency in his teammate’s voice. “I’m alright,” he assured, though his voice quivered faintly. The redhead looked uncertain for a moment, but staid where he was. “Let me try one more time.”

                Breathe. Focus.

                He felt the energy source collecting inside him, slowly starting to rise and push outward, eager for release. A ripple of emotions washed over him. Euphoria and fear swirled with pride and a bone deep hunger to stretch his limitations. To feel what Jean had felt; to prove himself worthy of this gift that he believed she had helped him realize.

                The field began to form around him, the same shade of red as his optic blast. Little by little it wrapped around him in a tight bubble, allowing him only enough room to fully extend his arm or leg.

                Panting, he opened his eyes and took in the sight, blinking at Remy from the other side of the field. Gambit was grinning. “You alright in dere?” he called.

                “Y-yeah,” Scott answered, feeling tense with concentration as though he were flexing a muscle, but otherwise fine.

                The man on the other side tentatively touched the bubble and found it solid and warm to the touch. He tried to press through it, but it remained firm.

                “Care to see how sturdy this thing is?”

                “Wha--?”

                Remy walked backwards for several paces, pulled a card from his pocket and charged it with his energy. Scott tensed, gritting his teeth.

                “Ready?”

                “Uh—“

                The card came spinning at the bubble and Scott flinched, throwing up his hands as if to brace the shield before him.

                The charged playing card struck the bubble with a pop and a bang, dissolving into ash, leaving the surface of the field untouched.

                Cyclops blinked and then grinned and flexed his fingers. “Well, LeBeau, is that all you’ve got?”

                Remy produced the rest of the card deck, shuffling them through his nimble fingers and began a vicious volley of attacks, doing his best to test Scott’s stamina and the integrity of the shield. It wavered here and there, but never failed, and each time it seemed like the explosions would overwhelm him, Scott pushed back twice as hard, until the shield around him expanded and rose, producing a pulse of light and heat that forced Gambit to retreat.

                “Whoa! Dat’s new!”

                Cyclops dissolved the shield and dropped to the ground, unsteady for a moment and then righted himself. “Are you ok?”

                “I’m perfect,” Remy replied, clearly more excited by this new development than concerned that he could have been rather badly singed.

                Scott looked at him fondly, “Yeah you are.”

                “What?”

                His face went dark red and he looked away quickly, realizing he’d spoken aloud. Why was he so awkward? What had Jean ever seen in him? Or Logan for that matter?

                “Nothing, I just meant…what do you think that was?”

                “Some variation of your optic lazor maybe? I dunno, either way it was impressive.”

                “Hey freaks!”

                Both men turned tensely towards the sound to find a small group of men and women heading towards them, looking disgruntled by their very existence.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing back here? This is private property.”

                “Pardon us,” Remy answered, looking around casually. “Didn’t t’ink dere was any harm is using an empty lot. We aren’t bothering anyone.”

                “Wrong, weirdo. We don’t want people like you practicing your weird shit out here. Enough people have gotten hurt already.”

                “Yeah, _our_ people included.” Scott quipped, glaring at the group. “We’re the good guys, got it? The ones protecting you from monsters, aliens—“

                “And other Mutants. You can’t even control your own community, how are we supposed to believe you want to protect ours?”

                Remy noticed that the group, three men and two women, seemed to all be about the same age, probably seniors at the college, and all of them had come armed in some manner; clutching baseball bats and crowbars. One had a hunting rifle. These were stupid, vigilantes who thought they were preforming a service to the community by driving out “questionable” characters like himself and Scott. They were afraid of them, certain they were the “bad” type of Mutant.

                “Nobody came here looking for a fight.” Cyclops muttered.

                “We did.” One woman in the back with spiked blonde hair grinned and held up a large vodka bottle, which she broke across the pavement to create a jagged weapon. “I ain’t scared of you, Mutie.”

                Scott felt his control slipping as that same familiar rage began to well up inside him again. These people were Neanderthals, primitive and spiteful of anything different from them. It was rhetoric he’d heard so many times before from the likes of Magneto, and had always denied the reality of because he wanted and needed to believe people were better than their baser fears. But here was the cold reality staring him in the face, ready to smash him and Gambit to pieces for no other reason than their willful ignorance and hate.

                Part of him told him to be the bigger person, to walk away, to prove he wasn’t a threat.

                But the rest of him—especially that growing voice deep in his mind, the voice that was barely distinguishable from his own these days—was so _tired_ of being the bigger person. He _was_ a threat. He was something these frail little mortals should not deign to interfer with, much less challenge.

                He felt heat rising inside him, his eyes beginning to change. He wanted to lay down a swath of destruction that would send them all yipping and scattering to the winds. How dare they threaten him!

               

                One of the students advanced towards him, the one with the baseball bat in his hand. He took a wide swing, hoping to scare them off. “Get out of here ya fuckin’ freaks of nature!”

                He took another swing, but Remy caught it in his hand, ignited it with his energy and let it explode into splinters. The man yelped, falling back, and the others shuffled nervously, not quite knowing whether to run away or charge.

                “Alright homme, dats enough now, don’t you t’ink?” Gambit said coolly.

                The man in front of him blinked slowly, mouth gaping and then—much to Scott’s surprise—relaxed, dropping his guard. “Yeah…sorry about that.”

                Remy smiled and gave him a rough pat on the shoulder. “S’alright! We all do stupid t’ings sometimes when we let our heads get clouded by what we t’ink we know about people. But you don’t really want to hurt me and my friend here. Now do you?”

                Scott blinked, watching in silent amazement as the tiny mob seemed to lose all it’s hostile energy, it’s attentions now focused on Remy in a sort dazed, adoring fashion.

                “No! No we really don’t…we’re so sorry. How can we make it up to you?”

                “Yeah, what can we do?”

                Gambit’s Charm was cranked into high gear, Scott could feel it’s presence, it’s warm, alluring current that threatened to take hold of him and make him as complacent and eager to please as the unwitting mob in front of them. They were drawing in closer, but Gambit didn’t seem nervous about being overwhelmed.

                “Ya’ll can start by getting’ rid of dat garbage you’re carrying around. Shameful really, marching around de streets in broad daylight wit dis stuff. What would your parents t’ink? Go throw it in de dumpster.”

                They rushed to comply, all five falling all over themselves to apologize as they did so.

                Scott looked at Remy with muted astonishment, but the Cajun was focused on the task at hand. “Alright den. Now, I want you to apologize to my friend Scott here for what you said.”

                “We’re so sorry Scott.”

                “We didn’t mean it, please don’t be angry with us!”

                One of the girls began to cry and Remy patted her on the back. “Alright den, I see you learned you lesson. Go on now, I t’ink ya’ll need to go home and ret’ink your life choices.”

                “Yes sir! Yes, yes whatever you want!”

                They began to scatter, again all too eager to reply. As they turned to leave, Remy caught the attention of the boy who been carrying the rifle. “You wait here just a moment, sunshine. Got a couple questions for you.”

                He was a stout kid, heavy set and muscular with a flat nose and watery blue eyes. He looked at Remy adoringly and Scott felt himself squirm, knowing what the little thug was probably thinking just then.

                “Ask me anything. Anything at all…”

                He tried to touch Remy and Scott felt an immediate surge of bright, red-hot anger and reached out, yanking the man’s thick hand away as he reached for him.

                “Back off pork-chop! He’s—“

                Remy put a hand on his chest. “Steady,” he cooed. “I have dis.” He looked back to the younger man in front of them, who was anxious for direction and more anxious to be recognized by the man who had him in his thrall.

                “You must feel pretty bold walkin’ around town wit dat gun, mon ami. Tell me, anyone give you de idea dat dis was a wise idea?”

                “Well…I’m not supposed to say.”

                Gambit smiled at him sweetly, “Aw, dat’s alright honey, you can tell ol’ Remy anyt’ing.”

                The man in front of him shivered with pleasure and went hot pink in his cheeks, leaning in a bit close for Scott’s comfort, but again Remy held his ground.

                “We’re in this group, you see, this protest group against Mutants, cause you know, they’re dangerous! I mean look at all the damage they’ve done since the so-called X-Men formed, it’s a public menace really…”

                “If you have a point, Animal House, I’d appreciate you gettin’ to it.”

                “Right, sorry! Anyway, the group started out real small, but then we started getting calls from big Anti-Mutant activists in the city. They wanted to help us organize, spread the word…give us protection against hostile Muties that might try to get us disbanded.”

                “Protection like de gas dat was in dat apartment building?”

                “Yeah! And other things…but I don’t really know all that stuff. They just sort of tell us find our own way, and if we have trouble to contact them.”

                “I see. Well, from now on, I want you to put all dat hateful, ignorant stuff out of your head, alright sugar? Cause you see, me and my friend here, we are the good guys. We don’t want to hurt anyone. But there are other ‘Muties’ out dere, who ain’t so nice about it. And you wouldn’t want to run into dem in a dark alley, son. You really wouldn’t.” He leaned in a bit closer and whispered in the man’s ear, “Will you do dat for me?”

                The boy shivered again and nodded eagerly. “Yes. Yes! Anything, anything.”

                “Good. Now get out of here. Do somethin’ useful wit your life.”

                The man turned and trotted away and as he vanished around the corner of the theater, Remy took in a heavy breath, reigning in his influence. “Ugh…I forgot how filthy and stupid people could be at dat age. I t’ink I just aged ten years tappin’ into dat mess.”

                He looked over at Scott who was just standing there, transfixed. “Uh, hello? Anyone at home? Earth to Scott?”

                Cyclops blinked slowly and then smiled. “That was…I’ve never seen you do that before.”

                “I don’t like to if I can help it,” Remy admitted. “Dey were an easy lot to manipulate, but…still feels wrong, ya know?” he looked around pensively, as if trying to sense if any more of the hate-mongering vigilantes were waiting to pounce. “Come on, we’d best get back before someone notices.”

 

**

 

                A short time later they crawled through the opening in the security fence, making their way back through the wood once more towards the mansion.

                “Why have you never used your Charm in battle before? You could easily turn your enemies on each other with your influence.”

                “I could, oui. But it’s difficult to control, especially in a fight where everyt’ing is so chaotic.”

                “I just…I never realized how much power you had. No wonder you’re a level 4 Mutant.”

                “A what?”

                “Government classification, sorry. Charles spoke about it a lot when you first came here…it’s just startling. Remy, you could have the world wrapped around your little finger…”

                Here Gambit stopped. “Alright, enough.”

                “What’s wrong?”

                “You’re starting to sound _a lot_ like Essex. He used to tell me dat same t’ing all de time, it’s what he trained me to do—to become a master manipulator. I don’t _want_ dat, Scott. I want no part in makin’ anyone do somet’ing against deir will. You got any idea how much dat—“ he trailed off, feeling overwhelmed.

                “I’m sorry. Remy, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Of course you wouldn’t want that. You’re not like that at all.” He put his hands on Remy’s biceps and looked at him seriously. “It must be so difficult for you, holding that influence back all the time. Some days I can see it, the way it wears you down. But you keep at it and that just says so much about you, Remy. It doesn’t surprise me now that Sinister couldn’t corrupt you. Something in you is just too good.”

                “Alright, mon ami, I forgive you, you can take it down a notch.”

                “But I mean it, Remy. You could have anything you want, but you choose not to abuse your gift for you own gain. That’s more than just admirable you know. It makes you worthy of being called an X-Men.”

                This time Gambit blushed faintly. “Ah, but you see it’s easy for me. I already have everyt’ing I want.” He drew away from Scott, “Come on, I need to catch up with Logan and Storm.”

                Remy didn’t see it, but Scott deflated then, realizing of course what Gambit meant. He felt a twist of jealousy in his chest, the same he had often felt when it came to Logan

                Wolverine didn’t deserve the man. He didn’t deserve to have Remy’s vast energies wasted on keeping his ego and animalistic desires in check. But it was more than that. Even with this short distance between them now, Scott felt the absence of Remy’s energy and influence. It was like the wind had gone out of him; and he no longer felt the power and confidence or the elation he had when they were together.

                Gambit’s influence was addictive, and he knew himself to be susceptible to it. The hunger for it was growing more and more intense. Soon he doubted he would be able to break his need for it. He wanted to stop before he ruined the one good thing he felt he still had in life…but another part of him mocked his weakness.

                He trailed behind Remy as they made their way back towards the grounds, and once or twice he paused, glancing back among the trees, feeling as though something was watching him. But never spotted anything other than a few squirrels.

                “Well,” Remy asked, stretching his long arms above his head as they reached the back door off the guardians. “I’d say we succeeded in getting your mind off t’ings, at least for a little while. Feeling any better?”

                “With you, of course.” Scott answered, again flushing at the sappy reply that tumbled from his lips.

                Remy laughed, “Oh poor Scott. I t’ink dis ol’ Charmer has gotten to you. Best we take a break. I’ll see you later, alright?”

                Summers nodded and watched as his teammate disappeared into the cool shade of the house, leaving him standing there in the sun. Gambit’s absence burned inside him, but he didn’t despair. He would feel that connection again, and soon if he played his cards right.

                Something collided sharply with his shoulder and made him grunt. He blinked in surprise as Bobby shoved past him.

                “Whoa, where’s the fire?”

               

                Gambit was already a fair distance down the hall. He only vaguely heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind him, and paid little mind to it. It wasn’t until his Empathy picked up a rather sharp spike of sheer outrage that he paused—but a second too late.

                He continued to walk, but as he put his foot down, it abruptly shot out from under him. Remy yelled in surprise, body twisting in an effort to correct the imbalance, but it was too abrupt, and down he went—hard and flat on his back.

                “Gah!” he was not met with the anticipated thump of a hardwood floor beneath him, but the unsavory cold crunch of ice. He groaned and winced, laying there stunned. Bobby’s face suddenly loomed above his, scowling.

                “Oops. Clumsy you.”

                “Goddamn, Bobby…” Remy groaned, pushing himself up with a wince. “Maybe don’t practice your ice-slicks in the hall?” He rubbed his neck and the back of his head, eyeing the younger man curiously. “If I didn’t know no better, I’d say you did dat on purpose.”

                “I thought we were friends.”

                “What? Of course we are! What are you--?”

                “I know you’re trying to get in good with the Professor and all, LeBeau, but maybe you ought to just dial it back, alright? Xavier asked you to help him work through his depression, not make him fall in love with you.”

                “Bobby…” Remy continued, finally on his feet again and frowning at the shorter blonde. “I know you’re mad at me—hell if I understand why, but I know it all de same—but you gotta maybe pull your head out of de snow and look at facts. I’m not tryin’ to get wit your crush. Maybe it’s time you grew a pair and actually confronted him about your feelings, instead of bein’ mad at me.”

                Bobby’s face flushed with embarrassment. It wasn’t really surprising that Gambit had hit the nail right on the head, he already knew about Bobby’s feelings for Scott. Which was why it hurt Bobby so much that the Cajun had never apologized for what had happened.

                “You’re not as charming as you think, Remy. Not everyone has to like you.”

                Gambit rolled his eyes. Bobby was too emotional for a rational conversation, he needed to step away before things got worse. “Dat fine wit me.”

                “Uuugh do you even know what you sound like half the time!? It’s not French, it’s not southern--I mean what the hell is that accent you use?! You’re ridiculous!”

                Gambit kept walking, because turning around may mean Bobby would have his fist in his mouth. He didn’t need this today, he was already feeling tired from their encounter in town.

                A clump of hard, icy snow crashed against the back of his head and made him pitch forward, earning a loud yelp as the slush and ice dribbled down the back of his neck and into his shirt. He turned, snarling, eyes jewel bright and fingers flickering with kinetic sparks.

                “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

                “Maybe you should go talk to Hank—maybe it’s a good idea to do another round of quarantine, since you can’t seem to keep your stupid Charm in check.”

                Bobby seemed to know the words were unusually cruel the moment the echoed in his ears, because the anger left his face, replaced immediately by regret when he saw how they affected the man in front of him.

                Remy didn’t attack him. The fire went out of his eyes. He stood, rigid and staring, saying nothing. “Is dat what you really t’ink of me?”

                Drake faltered, caught between remorse and embarrassed resentment. “You can’t tell me it hasn’t happened before. Maybe you don’t mean it, but Scott’s been hurt enough, and you just…you’re just making it worse! Your Charm is too much for him. It’s turning him into someone he’s not. Are you really so self-centered that you don’t see it?”

                Remy thought of Jericho and John. He thought of Victor. Of all the hearts he’d accidentally snared, and of all the ways it had ruined his life and theirs. He thought of what Hank had said to him in the lab days ago, and what Scott had implied just minutes before.

                He turned and hurried away from Ice Man, trotting down the corridor and vanishing out of sight. Bobby watched him go, knowing he’d crossed the line but feeling vindicated at the same time. Sometimes the truth hurts. Remy needed a cold dose of reality, he needed someone who wasn’t going to coddle him and pretend like his influence was always harmless. But he couldn’t get the sour taste of that guilt out of his mouth either.

                He needed to talk to someone who would understand his point of view a bit better. He headed towards Hank’s lab.

 

**

 

                Storm woke up from an unintended nap, feeling momentarily at a loss. She hadn’t remembered falling asleep, but now that she wasn’t, she wished she could return to that state. She felt exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t quiet. Already it was buzzing with a dozen different thoughts and ideas, each tripping and stumbling over the other as they raced around fighting for dominance and focus.

                Someone bent over her and hugged her close and she gasped a little in surprise, feeling Wolverine press a kiss against the back of her neck. “It’s alright, Ro. Go back to sleep.”

                “Would that I could, my love.” She answered, rolling to face him. She settled in his arms, safe and secure. “I suppose Hank told you what’s going on with me?”

                “He gave me the specifics, but I already sorta knew. Wish you had come to me sooner, darlin’.”

                “I prayed I would never need to. I’ve kept it under control for such a long, long time. I thought I was better. Now I’m lost again.”

                “You ain’t lost, Stormy. You’ll get through this. A little R and R, maybe some help from Chuck and some meds…we’ll work it out. It will be fine.”

                “You’re shockingly cavalier about the idea that I am mentally ill.”

                “Well look who you’re talking to, sweetheart. My brain’s been scrambled so many times, I turn from man to animal in an instant, I remember shit that I can’t even tell if it’s real or not…so let’s just say Bipolar doesn’t scare me.”

                She chuckled and he kissed her forehead. “Yer gonna be fine, Ro. We’ll ride it out. You’re still you, okay?”

                “No. I’m not me right now at all. One moment I’m calm, the next I’m a hurricane. I can’t rest, I can’t focus. I can’t seem to be satisfied and everything just feels so beyond my control.” She bowed her head against his shoulder. “Remy believes I don’t trust him.”

                “Yeah, he mentioned that.”

                She sat up finally, looking around. “Goddess…I wasn’t trying to offend him. I just wanted him to listen.”

                “Well maybe ye didn’t go about it the right way, darlin’. The Cajun’s got more pride then he lets on, doesn’t like to be treated like a delicate house flower.”

                “That wasn’t my intent.”

                “I know.” He answered. “But maybe you stepped on his toes a little with those good intentions of yours. Maybe yer moods weren’t putting you in the best headspace to recognize it.”

                She eyed him thoughtfully. “My, you’re certainly full of wisdom today. Where has this enlightenment come from I wonder?”

                “I’ve made a lot of mistakes with Remy. And I sure as hell don’t want to keep repeatin’ them.” He sighed, sitting next to her. “Ya know Ro, he brought up a good point earlier. When this thing between us started…neither of us really stopped to ask him what he wanted. If he was happy. I neglected him, and you…”

                “I wanted to rescue him.”

                “Maybe you shouldn’t have been the one to decide that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful you did. I was a mess and god knows what woulda happened…but just cause it worked out, doesn’t mean we went about it the right way.”

                She put her head on her knees, feeling overwhelmed. “Are you saying I took advantage of him?”

                “No. What I’m sayin’ is I think you and I are guilty of the same thing when we first fell for him. We saw someone who was vulnerable and we wanted to be needed. Maybe that’s ego, maybe it’s a hero complex, I don’t fuckin’ know. Either way, Remy isn’t just someone who needs savin’. He’s a whole person who’s a lot more complicated than he looks. Maybe we need him more than he needs us.”

                “So what do we do?”

                Here Logan sighed, “Well, I dunno sweetheart. Seems like that’s something you have to figure out for yourself.”

                “Wait, what?”

                “Well he ain’t mad at me. I dunno what was said between you two, but it’s something that I can’t fix. You’re gonna have to mend this fence in your own way.”

                She frowned. “Some help you are.”

                He kissed her cheek but she shrugged him off and he resigned himself, knowing she simply had to accept it. He climbed from the bed and started to change clothes, when they both heard a shuffling sound from downstairs.

                “Hank, how’s it comin’ down there?”

                “Oh quite well! Food is almost done!” McCoy called back.

                Ororo looked up in surprise, suddenly tense. “What is Hank doing here?”

                “Making dinner, I invited him. But he didn’t seem to like my idea of grilling, so he’s making salmon and shrimp. Jubilee should be coming around soon too.”

                It seemed strange that Logan would organize a get together. At least without being forced to do so.  “And what’s the occasion?”

                “No occasion. I call it a strategy meeting. Away from certain distractions.” Having put on a fresh T-shirt he leaned across the bed and kissed her again. “Come down when you’re ready darlin. I’m gonna go collect our Cajun. I’m not suffering through cooking crawfish for him to miss it.”

 

***


	10. Chapter 10

 

***

 

                Despite his long strides, Remy felt like he couldn’t get away fast enough. Bobby had managed to prod his weak spot just hard enough to make his control wane, and he didn’t know what his influence would do.  He managed to avoid the students easily enough, but as he made a beeline for Logan’s old rooms—where hoped he’d get a little bit of solitude to collect himself—he ran right into Warren, who was looking at him with renewed curiosity.

                “Oh, there you are,” Warren said, having narrowly missed knocking straight into Remy. “I suppose that means you and Scott are back your, um, session? How did it go?”

                “Warren please, I’m tired. Can we talk about dis later?”

                “What’s wrong?”

                “Not’ing,” Remy lied, growing irritated. He could feel his control slipping faintly. “I just need to be alone for a bit, collect myself.”

                Warren’s expression softened, “Sure, I understand. The Professor picked you for a big job on this one, and Scott…he’s not known for opening up about how he feels.” He put his hand on Remy’s arm lightly. “Is there anything you need? Please don’t hesitate to ask.”

                Gambit looked at him, feeling tense. He wasn’t entirely sure if Warren was speaking from a place of sincerity, or if his influence had swayed his usually indifferent attitude towards the Cajun.

                “Merci, dat’s kind of you. But I really just need a rest.”

                He pulled away, and to his relief the winged man didn’t try to pull him back or offer any further consolation. Gambit quickened his pace and ducked into the empty room—only to find it not so empty at all.

                Jubilee was sitting on the bed with the kittens, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw that it was Remy entering the room and not Logan.

                “Oh-hey!”

                “Petite, you skulking about in here again? Logan told you he don’t like it—“

                “You guys live at the lake house now, what does it matter? Why are you here?” she looked nervous, and Remy noticed that despite the fact that the kittens were on the bed tussling and playing, her hands were shoved deep into her pockets.

                He eyed her for a moment, “Jubes, were you waitin’ on Logan?”

                “What? No. I mean…he’s busy out at the lake house with Storm right now, but I just wanted to, um, check on the cats.”

                “Hmm.”

                She was anxious, which was something for Jubilee who was probably one of the most easy-going of the young mutants. Remy could sense that she had been hoping for Logan to come along, and that she was embarrassed to be caught by Remy, as if he would catch her in the act of something. On top of this, there was a persistent discomfort in her, a throb and ache that hadn’t yet been properly cared for.

                He looked again at her hands shoved into her pockets. “Alright petite, show me your hands.”

                “What? No, why?”

                “Jubilee. You believe in honor among thieves don’t you? We don’t lie to each other, we don’t take from one another, oui?”

                “Yeah…”

                “Den come clean wit me. What you hidin’ in dere?”

                She bit her lip and slowly removed her hands from her pockets, holding them palm up for Remy’s observation. The Cajun’s eyes went wide when he saw the angry, red and raw skin that marred her palms.

                He took them gingerly in his to have a better look, “Oh petite…why you not say somet’ing? How did dis happen? We have to have Hank look at dis.”

                “No, no, he’ll wanna know how I hurt them.”

                “And why should he not know?”

                “Because—“ she fidgeted. “You should probably ask Wolvie.”

                “He knows you hurt yourself?”

                “He put some bandages and stuff on it last night, but it still stings. I didn’t want to bother Hank."

                Remy didn’t understand, but his patience was far too thin for this. “Alright, up you get. I’ll take you down to de lab myself. Beast is a seven foot ball of bright blue fur and muscle, can’t be hard to miss. Come on, no excuses.”               

                “But Remy, you don’t understand—“

                “I don’t need to. You let dat burn go much longer you’ll be infected, doubt you’ll be makin’ fireworks den.”

                He was tugging her back down the hall, beginning to wish that Hank would install a transporter unit so that he wouldn’t have to go back and forth so much. But the girl beside him continued to drag her feet.

                “I really want to wait for Logan.”

                “He told me you two were out joy riding last night. Now we both know dat’s a lie, so what really happened Jubes? You two find yourselves in some trouble?”

                “It’s not what you think!”

                “Days like dis I miss de simplicity of de Guild.” Gambit muttered. “Bunch of Thieves and Assassins kept less secrets from each other den dis place…”

                “Wow, you’re mad.” She said, with a note of astonishment.

                “I’m not mad, I’m… _exasperated._ ” He muttered, finally giving pause in his march towards Hank’s lab. He took a deep breath, trying to refocus himself. He wanted a drink and a nap and an orgasm to wash this day down with. Not necessarily in that order.

                He refocused on Jubilee, and found himself tapping into her emotional current almost effortlessly. He saw glimpses of her memory from last night, of the apartment and Marcus and the burning light that had turned the man to charred bones and ash but had left her and Logan intact. Through her, he saw Logan’s fear as well, the unsettling look on his face as they had fled…

                Remy pulled back with some effort, shaking his head.  Neither of them spoke for a bit, both feeling exposed and rattled.

                “Desole…I didn’t mean to do dat.”

                “Are you going to tell?”

                “What is dere to tell, cherie? You went looking for answers, what you seem to have come back wit is more questions.”

                “Logan’s afraid to say anything.”

                “I saw dat.”

                “Do you know why?”

                “Non. My power don’t work like dat. Can’t read de emotions of one person through another’s, can only get deir perspective.”

                They heard movement and looked up to see the man in question approaching them. “Well, two birds with one stone. Makes my job easier. Jubes, you forget about our dinner date?”

                “No, I, um,” she looked between him and Gambit as if trying to warn him.

                LeBeau folded his arms and muttered something unpleasant sounding at him in French. Logan paused, tilting his head slightly. “Okay, I’m a bit rusty, but I got ‘asshole’ and ‘bastard’ out of that…”

                “You are both for letting Jubilee try to cover up your mistake. Not to mention just stupid! No offense cherie.”

                “Hey!” Jubilee whined.

                “Simmer down, Cajun.”

                “Logan, you ran into somet’ing _dangerous_ last night, somet’ing dat de Professor and de others need to know about!”

                His lover took his arm and looked at him seriously, “Relax, darlin’. Let me explain.”

                “Better be damn good.”

 

**

 

                Once they were in the lake house, shielded from prying eyes and ears from the mansion, Logan took Remy upstairs to speak to him privately. He divulged everything he and Jubilee had seen and heard the night before, from the confession at the police station to the fateful meeting at Marcus’s. Afterwards, the pair sat in silence as Gambit tried to digest it all.

                “And…you t’ink it was done by another Mutant? You sure of it?”

                “Not without hard evidence, but that’s what my gut is tellin’ me.”

                “Would have to be someone powerful. Don’t know anyone who could do a t’ing like what you’re describing, not even in Sinister’s circles. Must be a new Mutant.”

                Logan nodded, but Remy sensed a heightened note of concern. “Why is it you don’t want to tell Charles? Surely he could find whoever did dis, maybe help dem, or contain dem at the very least.”

                “Charles is out checking the crime scene for more information. Sure he’ll narrow the search from there.” He paused before adding, “How’d it go with Scooter?”

                “Fine,” Remy shrugged. “He’s got a long way to go, but I t’ink I can help him. And it feels good…to not have someone second guess you all de time.”

                Logan raised an eyebrow and moved closer. Remy just shook his head, brushing it off. “It’s fine, mon cher. Have to admit, I’m a bit tired. Slept strange and den all dat time tapping into Scott’s mess of emotions…more out of practice wit dat sort of t’ing den I guessed.”

                His lover kissed his cheek and lips and pushed back his hair. “Just be careful, darlin’. If Scott’s a sinkin’ ship, I don’t want you going down with him.”

                Remy kissed him back to quiet him, and then let their attentions move to other things. Like the awkward gathering that was happening on the deck below their own. Both men stepped outside, watching from the upper landing as Storm laid out the food on the table, and Hank seemed to be finishing treating Jubilee’s wounded hands.

                “Please tell me there’s going to be a lot of liquor at dis little tet-a-tet you’re planning, mon coeur. I’m going to need it.”

                “You and Stormy have to patch up some time.”

                “Oui, I suppose.” His eyes drifted towards McCoy. “Why’d you invite Beast?”

                “Better question is why do you care that I invited him? Thought you and McCoy were pals.”

                “I’m nobody’s ‘pal’ right now. Just an alley cat in heat. Ask anyone.” LeBeau muttered bitterly and Logan almost cringed.

                “Maybe I ought break out the good whiskey tonight.”

                “Can’t we just say in bed tonight? Sil te plait…I’m not up to dis.” LeBeau pouted.

                “Come on, Cajun, suck it up. If I can stand socializing with people for a few hours, so can you.”

                Remy let out a pained yowl and put his head in his hands and started muttering bitterly in French again, something about Saints and punishment. Logan let him whine. He had bigger problems to worry about.

 

**

 

                Bobby went to his room to play his music and try to drown out everything. For someone with ice powers, he felt like he was boiling over all the time these days. It was uncomfortable, and unflattering.

                He had always been an easy-going guy until…until a month ago. When everything had begun to deteriorate. When Scott and Jean visibly fell apart and took nearly half the school with them. Until then, even in his moments of self-doubt, Bobby still felt like he was on solid ground. That he could depend on the X-Men and his place among them. There was a system in place. There was normalcy.

                Now, nothing felt normal. Nothing felt grounded. His world had been shaken in a way that no super villain or Senteniel had ever been able to. And since then, in his insecurity, all he had been able to do was lash out.

                He was hurting; feeling ignored and marginalized. It was like he had suddenly become invisible. Meanwhile, Remy had become the opposite in Scott’s eyes. It felt wrong. It felt weird. Bobby had watched Scott act on repressed impulse before and he knew he couldn’t do it again. Last time it had been Logan on the other end of Scott’s obsessive affection, and it had nearly torn the team apart.

                But Bobby hadn’t felt this kind of jealousy then. Maybe it was because it was such an obvious mistake, a huge lapse in judgement. Jean was still with Scott then, and it became clear that whatever was between he and Logan, it wasn’t going to turn into anything.

                But this time was different. Jean was lost. Scott was vulnerable. And despite how often Bobby had tried to be there for him, Scott never even saw him. Not once.

                So it hurt that Gambit, without any effort or even romantic interest, had won the man’s attention. His affection. His trust. Something Bobby craved so desperately it was turning him into someone he didn't like.

                The blonde groaned loudly and then screamed into his pillow, letting it frost over in his frustration. He tossed it across the room afterwards and it landed in a cloud of flurries and then immediately sagged into a soggy lump.

                “Dammit man, you have to stop…pretty soon you’re gonna be as popular around here as Magneto.” he muttered to himself, grinding his palms against his forehead before sitting up and finally turning off his speakers. The silence was empty and deafening, and made him feel even more alone. He’d accused Scott of driving everyone away, of picking fights and lashing out, but wasn’t he doing just the same thing?

                Logan would be disappointed in him.

                Opting not to stay in his room and be miserable for the rest of the evening; he decided to go and try to find Scott himself. Maybe if he could get the man alone, he’d be able to make his feelings a bit clearer. It was a worth a shot.

                He searched the common areas for Scott, but had no luck. Finally, he decided to check the man’s almost unused room. The door was left slightly ajar, and Bobby could see a light inside and hear a voice…or was it voices?

                He stood at the door, listening awkwardly for a moment, not wanting to intrude.

                “Scott? Can I come in?”

                Everything in the room went silent. The light flickered like there was a short in it.

                “Scott?”

                He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Scott was standing in the middle of the room, looking out the window, as if he had been doing so for some time now. His face was pale and his gaze seemed unfocused.

                Bobby called his name again and finally the man responded, turning towards him as if seeing him for the first time. “Oh…hi. H-hi, Bobby. I didn’t see you there.”

                “Something exciting out there?”

                “What?”

                “You were looking out the window.”

                “Was I?”

                Bobby came up next to him, “Hey man…why don’t we sit down, yeah? Do you need a drink?” He maneuvered Scott into a chair and sat on the edge of the bed across from him. “Um, listen, about earlier…I’m sorry if I came off the wrong way."

                Scott looked at him for a moment in silence, and Bobby didn’t expect him to say anything. But his gaze softened after a moment and he sat forward, “Hey, man, I don’t want you to worry for me, okay?” he smiled, awkwardly and briefly perhaps, but it was a smile. “You’re an X-Man now. You got your own thing going on…with Kitty and Kurt…I don’t want you trailing around after me, thinking you need to look out for me." 

                “What are you—Kitty and Kurt are just friends! And I love them and all but you’re—“ he fumbled. “You’re different.”

                Scott smiled at him and pushed himself up, coming to stand in front of him. He put his hands on his shoulders, leaned down and kissed his forehead, causing Bobby to sigh and blush hotly. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. We’re all going to be fine.” He looked towards the window again, once more growing distant and distracted. “Have you seen where Remy went? I think I need to talk to him.”

                “Scott…I don’t think you should be hanging out with Remy so much.”

                His team mate still, looking at him curiously. “Why is that?”

                “You’re too involved with him. Have you really forgotten all the crazy things you’ve done under his Charm influence? That time you pinned him in the hall, falling all over yourself when he first got here and well…everyone knows what else.”

                Scott narrowed his eyes at him angrily, “Gambit is--!” he started to shout, then struggled to pull back, straightening his shoulders. “--he’s important to me. What happens between us is not up for public debate. If you were my friend you’d understand that.”

                “He’s involved with two other people! How do you think that’s going to go? Do you think Logan and Storm are just gonna invite you in with no problem!? What are you thinking, Scott!?”

                “They have nothing to do with it.”

                Bobby laughed, now standing. “What, you think LeBeau is gonna just walk away from them? I don’t see that happening any time soon.”

                Scott glared at him, but then his eyes wandered. Something had caught his attention in his peripheral vision. It was there one second and then gone the next.

                “I mean, really, I’m starting to think you just want what you can’t have. Is that it? You must be some kind of masochist! LeBeau doesn’t want you, and even if he does, it’s just for sex. He doesn’t even know you, what—“

                Bobby voice seemed to fade off into a soundless vacuum, and Scott felt his attention drawn inward, to the voice that had taken up hold in his mind.

                _You can’t let him stop you._

_“He just doesn’t want me to get hurt.” He answered. “I don’t want this. I don’t want everyone upset like this! Remy…I love Remy, but this is too much. I can’t, I don’t want to make this mistake again.”_

_We need him. We need LeBeau._

_“Why!? Why won’t you tell me?!”_

In front of him Bobby was still talking, but Scott was still deaf to him. His attention was drawn instead to a new figure that had entered the room as if by magic. He felt his core tighten and his knees go numb.

                Standing right behind Bobby was Jean. Scott could feel his own heart pounding in his ears through the silence.

                “Jean?”

                “Yes, Scott. I’m here.”

                “But…you’re dead.”

                She smiled at him in a sweet, sad way. “Yes.”

                “So why are you…no. No, you’re not here.” He looked at Bobby, who was still ranting, growing more frustrated it seemed. Yet Scott still didn’t hear a word. “He can’t see you. I’m…hallucinating.”

                “No. You’re projecting me, Scott. I’m part of you now. Part of your mind.”

                “That’s…no. No you can’t be. That doesn’t  make sense.”

                “When I died, the Phoenix fled my body, but she took part of my consciousness with it to help it survive. It’s found a home in you, Scott. You saved us.”

                He laughed, feeling his eyes begin to tear up, chest tight with anxiety as he wrapped his arms around himself. “Oh my God…It’s true. I’m crazy. I really have gone crazy.”

                She stepped closer to him and touched him. He swore he felt her fingers on his cheek, the warmth of her palm. But he couldn’t trust himself. “Jean, you’re dead. I’m delirious or delusional…you’re dead. I didn’t save you. I let Logan kill you.”

                _You can’t kill a God._

He stared at her, seeing her lips move but hearing a voice other than hers. The voice in his mind, the strange unearthly echo that reminded him of many different voices at once, seeming to swim or flutter between all the voices he had ever heard.  Phoenix’s voice.

                “Scott, you need Gambit. You need his energy source. If you can tap into it; if you can unleash it’s full protentional, it can free Phoenix and myself from your mind. We’ll be whole again, all of us.”

                His head felt like it was spinning. Bobby remained unaware of Jean’s presence. He seemed to be moving slower…time itself seemed to slowed to a crawl around them.

                “I can’t…I don’t know how…” he thought back to the night before, to that moment on the sofa when he had tapped into Gambit’s energy. He cringed, shaking his head and pulling away from the woman in front of him. “NO. It’ll hurt him…I can’t do that.”

                “We can’t sustain this form, Scott. Your mind is powerful, but it was never built to contain something like this. It will destroy you, and us along with it…” The redhaired woman looked back at Bobby nervously. “And we won’t be the only ones lost if you lose control. The X-Men were my family too, Scott. I don’t want them to suffer this fate.”

                “You’re asking me to choose…I can’t do that. I won’t do that!”

                “Right now, we don’t have a choice. But the Phoenix is Light. Creation itself. Perhaps there’s a way…we’ll find a way.”

                Bobby’s voice was starting to break through the void, and Jean herself was becoming less tangible. Scott felt pain lance through his head, making him want to scream. “Bobby, Bobby shut up! Shut up! Please…I don’t know what to do!”

                The world around him seemed to surge forward as if he were falling upward, and Drake’s voice met his ears.

                “—Are you even listening to me!? Why did you sneak off with him today? Don’t you realize how dangerous that is right now? What if whatever killed that guy—“

                “Shut up, Bobby!” His voice was sharp and demanding.

                “No, dammit! Not this time! Someone has to snap you out of this, someone—“ Bobby reached to touch him, but the moment he did Scott knocked him backward, sending him flipping over the bed.

                “Don’t touch me!” he shouted, holding his head. The room had begun to vibrate and shake, the windows rattling in their sills, pictures falling off walls, lamps jittering and toppling to the floor followed by the tinkling smash of breaking glass.

                From the other side of the bed Bobby stared, wide eyed, watching as Scott tried in vain to grapple with his powers. Objects began to levitate from shelves and tables, even the bed began to lift off the ground.

                The whole mess began to spin and swirl, like water being sucked down a drain, and in the middle of it all were Scott and Bobby.  The air began to feel and smell hot, and Bobby coughed on the dryness of it, feeling himself begin to sweat.

                “Scott! Scott you have to calm down! Please!”

                Cyclops looked at him, wide eyed and afraid and saw the same expression mirrored on Bobby’s face. He didn’t want this. _He didn’t want to hurt Bobby._

                Everything in the room came to an abrupt, crashing halt. The levitating objects crashing to the floor in various states of destruction. The bed slammed down, breaking in half. Bobby dropped as well, not having even realized he’d become airborne, and fell immediately unconscious as a psychic aftershock swept the room, shorting out the power on top of everything else.

                Scott collapsed to his knees next to him, barely maintaining his own hold on consciousness, shaking and pale, soaked with sweat.

                Around him the lights slowly flickered back on. The temperature returned to normal. He reached towards Drake and felt his pulse. The man was fine, just out cold.

                Breathing hard, he laid down next to the other man on the floor and tried to collect himself. He felt nauseated and winded, and the shaking in his hands refused to stop for several long minutes. He put an arm around Bobby’s still figure, needing an anchor and knowing that the younger man couldn’t see or hear him. He would be mortified otherwise.

                The more he thought about what had just happened, the less sure he was of its reality. It had felt real. Jean had felt real. But she had confirmed that she was in fact dead. Dead people didn’t just randomly appear in your bedroom.

                But as implausible as it seemed, the evidence was all around him, laying in shattered pieces across the bedroom floor.

                “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” he moaned to the man next to him. “But I’m going to now. I’m going to get Charles. He can fix me. It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

                _If you go to Xavier now, he will destroy you._

                Scott screamed at the reemergence of the other voice in his head, clapping his hands over his ears and crying out harshly.

                “Stop it! Shut up! SHUT UP! You aren’t real! I’m sick, that’s all! I just need help…”

                _You do. But none will come from him. Xavier already suspects what we have told you. If you confirm his fears, he will destroy you to protect the others._

“You’re lying to me. Charles…Charles loves me. He would never do that.”

                He got shakily to his feet and did his best to steady himself, stumbling towards the door. As he moved he felt his strength coming back. He looked back at Bobby and the ruined room, and with only a thought, found the broken objects begin to shift and move, mending themselves and returning to their previous positions.

                Scott watched the slow-motion display before turning his attention to Bobby, whom he placed on the repaired bed. He was just glad that Ice Man was not injured by his outburst. The idea that he could have done so much worse made his guts twist.

                He left the room quickly and made for Xavier’s office, knowing he was likely to be there. But he hadn’t gone more than a few steps before he sensed the man in question, along with several of his other team members.

                Their thoughts shrouded him for a moment like a fog and he struggled to push past them and keep the voices back. It was then that Xavier spotted him.

                “Is everything alright, Scott?” he asked.

                Summers blinked and nodded, “Actually Professor…”

                _Do not trust him. He already suspects._

                “Scott?”

                Cyclops squared his jaw, doing his best to look passive, unemotional. He narrowed his gaze at the Professor, attempting to breech the carefully constructed walls that surrounded his mentor’s thoughts. For any other telepath, it might have proved an exhausting challenge. But with the abilities bestowed on him by Jean and Phoenix, the walls crumbled like butter.

                Scott searched for evidence through the forefront of Xavier’s memory. He saw where he and the other X-Men had been. That they had seen damage created at the apartment, that they had spoken to the police. Charles was convinced the deed had been done by a Mutant. An Omega Level Mutant, something previously unheard of before Jean.

                He continued to scan for another second or two, and finally locked on to Xavier’s conversation with Wolverine, the morning after Scott had damaged the Danger Room.

               

_“I know, and I am sorry to put you in this position. Which is why I’m asking you to keep an eye on Scott, incase what Remy is doing fails to help him regain control. You would provide a sort of safety net if…he becomes a threat.”_

_The Professor watched his friend’s face for a moment, trying to read his expression, though it was just as simple for him to read his thoughts._

_“You don’t know what you’re asking me.”_

_“I’m asking you to protect this school. To protect your friends, your family. I’m asking you to do what I know no one else can.”_

_“I’m not going to have any more blood on my hands.”_

_“And we will do everything in our power to make sure that you don’t. But Logan, I have lived too long. I have seen too much not to know what might happen. I love Scott. And if he were in his right mind, he would agree with me. We need to prepared…for the worst.”_

 

                “Hey Scott, you seen Bobby?” Kitty asked, interrupting his focus and bringing him back to the present.

                For a moment he didn’t answer, his face a mask of indifference, but his eyes were cold. “Sorry Kitty, I haven’t. Excuse me.”

                “Actually, Scott if you have a moment—“

                “I don’t, Professor. But I promise we’ll catch up later. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

                He made his way back to his room quietly, feeling as though his heart was too heavy to keep in his chest. Quietly he closed the door behind him and stood there, trying to decide what to do next.

                Phoenix—Jean—had been right.

                He didn’t know quite where to turn now. Xavier feared him; he would use Wolverine to destroy him or disable him somehow. Scott feared what his father figure might do to keep him in check…the thought of being reduced to nothing more than a threat was sickening and terrifying. Xavier had practically raised him. Was he so easily replaced?

                Of course he was.

                Scott was no longer his prize. He had accumulated so many more talented students and protégés. Even with Jean gone, he had still been replaced. By Wolverine no less.

                Something inside him, something already frail and damaged, broke completely. There was no one he could turn to now, no one who might not reveal his secrets to Charles, no one who would believe the things he had seen and heard. Except maybe one person.

                His reservations were gone. He needed to do whatever it took to get Remy on his side, away from the others. Whether the Phoenix was lying to him or not, Gambit was his only hope for salvation now. And he couldn’t let anything or anyone interfere with that.

 

***

 

                At the lake, the atmosphere was marginally more relaxed, though it was not going at all how Logan had planned.

                Sitting at the end of the long picnic table, beer in hand, he looked out upon the scene that he had managed to orchestrate. McCoy distracted himself with food next to him (and nursed his third glass of wine) while flicking shy glances in Remy’s general direction.

                The Cajun never returned these looks. He was standing at the railing of the deck that overlooked the pier and the lake below, nursing his own drink half-heartedly and making small talk with Jubilee.

                Storm appeared at his elbow with more food. “I’d say we suffered through this awkwardness long enough,” she said, making both himself and Hank look up.  “Are you going to tell us what’s really going on now?”

                “Yes, Logan, it might be best if you just come out with it.” Hank mumbled.

                He found himself in no hurry to divulge details, however. For as urgent as the situation with Scott was to him, the odd disarray of the people around him was currently more pressing. He looked to Storm. “I'll get to it. You and Remy can’t avoid each other forever. Go talk to him.”

                The woman frowned nervously. “I’m not avoiding him.”

                Wolverine shrugged, “Then go on.”

                She smacked him on the back of the head, making him dribble his drink onto his shirt, and sauntered away, going to stand near LeBeau. When neither of them fled or started shouting at each other, he turned his attentions to Hank.

                “And what’s eating you, Big Blue?”

                Hank blinked behind his glasses and pushed the food on his plate around some more. “You have such a blunt way of phrasing things.”

                “You should be used to it by now. Come on, what’s with the long looks? I know when you’re brooding.”

                “I simply have a lot of work—“

                “This is a no bullshit zone.” Wolverine cut in. “Come on, Hank. It’s me.”

                Beast tensed, repressing a sigh. “I’m troubled about Scott’s new abilities, the change in his personality, and the way that he is so vehemently resisting all intervention and aid from Charles.” He sighed. “I know…what it is he spoke to you about. The morning after we found Scott in the Danger Room.”

                Logan looked at him carefully. “You know what he’s afraid of then.”

                “Yes.”

                “Do you agree?”

                Hank shrugged. “I can’t be sure. It is a theory I suppose, but I understand too little about the Phoenix force itself to make any conclusions. And speculating I fear is much too dangerous.” Here he looked at Logan seriously. “I’m sure you understand what I mean by that.”

                “I don’t go around casting stones lightly, Beasty.”

                “I know you don’t. So you must know something that I don’t. I figured that was what you wanted to speak to us about…yet you seem to have changed your mind. Or you’re feeling unusually dramatic, drawing it all out.”

                Logan’s eyes slid back towards Gambit. “Ain’t changed my mind all. Just being cautious. Wouldn’t want to spread rumors…”

                Hank choked on his fish and Logan raised an eyebrow. “Seriously man, what’s going on with you?”

                McCoy stared at him for a moment and then mumbled, “I feel that…I may have overstepped my bounds with Remy. I only wanted to help and his reluctance…I handled it poorly. And I feel terrible, and I don’t know how to make amends.”

                Logan emptied his bottle and stood up. “Not sure how to help you there, bub. But moping around with those sad eyes isn’t gonna get you what you want. You need the Cajun to forgive ya for somethin’,” he looked towards where Remy and Storm were standing, swaying to the music together “then my advice is to go ask for it.”

               

                “You doin’ alright, Stormy?”

                Her arms were around his neck, and his around her hips as they swayed to the radio like a couple of teenagers at high school dance.

                “I’ll be fine,” she promised. “I suppose Logan told you what was going on?”

                “Oui, but I suspected somet’ing of like might be going on.”

                “Did your empathy pick that up?”

                “Maybe I just know you, cherie.” He kissed her cheek. “Anyt’ing I can do?”

                “This is enough. You’re enough.” She moved in a bit closer, threading her fingers through the back of his hair and laying her forehead against his as he tugged her in closer. “Glad you understand.”

                “Of course,” he answered. “Dis mean you’ll ease off a little?”

                “Hmm?”

                “Worryin’ about me so much, I mean. I know I’m a bit of daredevil at times…I court danger a bit too closely for my own good. But it’s only cause I know my limits, and I know de risks so well. Any thief worth his salt knows to look ahead.”

                “Yes,”

                “So you trust me not to make a fool of myself.”

                They had stopped moving and she found herself feeling uncomfortable again. He was looking at her with that same wounded expression from before, though it wasn’t as fresh. “I thought we talked about this already.”

                “We did. But I need to know you mean it, Storm. Thief to thief. You have to trust my judgement.”

                She sighed. “Remy…”

                “What is it? Why can’t you--?”

                “I love you, Remy. But you’re asking me to ignore your self-destructiveness. You’re asking me to ignore my senses. I see you get swept away by your Empathy and all I want is to be able to pull you back when that happens. Before…”

                He pulled away. “Before what?”

                She was frustrated, ready to cry, unsure whom she was more frustrated with in that moment; Gambit or herself. The wind around them began to pick up, the clear blue sky began to sour and grey as clouds seemed to form and gather as if from nowhere.

                “I know you care about Scott. I do too, but he needs to sort himself out right now. I’m afraid you’re going to become his crutch, the same way Logan used to be.”

                “It isn’t like that at all, Ro.”

                “You don’t see it. The way he looks at you, the way he clings to you. You have to be blind not see how hard he’s fallen for you.”

                “I don’t feel dat way about him. Doesn’t dat count for anything? Doesn’t _my_ choice matter?!”

                “Um, am I interrupting?” Hank said, suddenly beside them.

                “Thankfully so,” Gambit muttered, quickly excusing himself and disappearing around the back of the house. Storm made to follow after him, but McCoy stopped her.

                “Give him a little air.”

                “What’s wrong with me?” she muttered, hanging her head as she looked down at the water, which was still rippling in the breeze. 

                “Nothing, Ororo, I assure you. You’re worried about him, the same as I am.” Beast answered. “But, I rather fear…Logan might be right. We are going about this the wrong way.”

                “We?”

                Hank blushed darkly under his fur. “It’s a different type of concern perhaps. But concern none the less.”

                She nodded. “Hank, what am I doing? Why am I so hung up on this?”

                “Because we know Scott better than either Logan or Remy. And though we care for him…we both know that Scott’s repressed fixations have shown themselves in harmful ways in the past. I don’t know about you, but I do not want to see the birth of another feud.”

                “Neither do I. I fear that Remy will take Jean’s place as a tension point between them. I doubt any of them could withstand such a dynamic long before it tore them apart.” She paused, trying to collect herself. “But Gambit is nothing like Jean. He doesn’t feel that way about Scott…”

                “No, he doesn’t. And that is something.”

                She squeezed his hand affectionately and looked back to where Logan and Jubilee had disappeared into the house. “I think I’d better take a moment. Could you talk to him for me? Make sure he’s okay?”

                “I, um—“

                She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Henry.”

                McCoy watched her go and then let out a heavy sigh.  “Oh dear.”

               

**

 

Unaware of the soap-opera drama that was unfolding, Logan and Jubilee had ducked back inside to gather more drinks.

                “Do you really think Scott did this?” Jubilee asked.

                Logan looked at her over his shoulder, scowl on his face. “Now did I say that?”

                “No, but that’s what this was all about wasn’t it? You were getting everyone together to warn them about Scott.”

                “I’m starting to wonder if you’re not part feral yerself, darlin’, that exceptional hearing of yours…’specially around conversations yer not invited to.”

                “Oh come on, Wolvie. I’m more perceptive than you give me credit for. So…do you really think he did it?”

                “I think that when Scott lost Jean, he lost himself. And I think that left a very big hole…that something awful has filled. Professor thinks that Scott might now possess some of the Phoenix’s powers.”

                “How is that possible? Isn’t the Phoenix dead?”

                “Don’t think you can kill something older than our universe, darlin’. I don’t know what happened to it when it left Jean’s body. I don’t know if it broke apart, or diminished but…the things Summers can do now that he never could do before…it’s uncanny.”

She looked worried then. “Are we…safe?”

                “I’m gonna make sure we are, darlin’. Don’t worry about it.” He answered. He looked out the windows towards the porch.

                “Maybe you should.”

                Jubilee let out a startled gasp, looking behind Wolverine. Logan turned, stunned to be caught off guard by Cyclop’s approach. It was a rare feat for anyone to sneak up on him in such a way. In fact, it seemed as though the man had just materialized out of thin air—which shouldn’t be possible. But stranger things had happened.

                The lean brunette sauntered into the kitchen, frowning as he approached, eyes on Logan. “You and I need to talk.”

                “Sure.” Howlett answered.

                Scott glanced at Jubilee, “Can you give us some privacy?”

                She started to move, but Logan shook his head. “She’s fine where she is. Sure anything you have to say to me is fine for her, or anyone else to hear.” He nodded to the group outside. “Since I assume this is a friendly conversation and all.”

                Scott’s frown didn’t change but his eyes narrowed. “Fine. I think you should pack your things and leave.”

                Wolverine chuckled, cracking a bottle of beer and setting it on the counter for him. “Ah, Slim. Subtle as ever. Believe me, I thought about it. I _did_ it, ‘smatter of fact. But the hell of it is, running away from your problems doesn’t solve them. They always come creeping back. You should be an expert on that by now, as much as I am.”

                “You killed a member of this team. You took a life. You’re not an X-Men.”

                “He only did what he had to--!” Jubilee cried out, but Logan waved her off.

                “Darlin, shh. I know what I done. You think it doesn’t kill me every day to think about it?”

                “I don’t care if it does.” Scott snarled. “I’m the leader of this team. Not you. You had no right—“

                “I didn’t have a choice!” the shorter man barked back. “Hate me, go on, hate me all you want! I don’t blame, hell I won’t even stop you! But fuck you if you think I did it because it was the easy way out. FUCK YOU. This team was in danger, _the people I love were in danger!_ You tell me what I should have done!”

                The room rang in the silence of his outburst. Logan drained a fresh bottle in four big gulps and threw it into the sink where it smashed to pieces.

                “I know what Xavier asked you to do.” 

There was no pity, no sympathy, no sign of understanding. Scott was beyond that, at least in this moment. Nothing Logan could have said or done would absolve him.

                Jubilee raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

                He didn’t answer, so she turned her gaze back to her mentor.

                Logan said nothing, watching him with hard, suspicious eyes. “See you’re getting the hang of that telepathy. Good for you. Did you also see what I had to say about the matter?”

                “You guys are scaring me. Should I get Storm and Hank?”

                “You want a reward for not volunteering to put me down?” Scott muttered. His blue eyes flashed bright red and a haze appeared in front of them as though he was just barely holding back an attack.

                “Jubilee, head outside,” Logan said then, moving swiftly around the counter, trying to put himself between her and Scott, as though he was about to ring the man’s long neck.

                “Why, so you can ‘take care’ of me in peace?” the man mocked.

                Logan slugged him across the mouth and sent him stumbling away from the counter, catching himself on the back of a chair.

                “Don’t!” Jubilee cried, grabbing Wolverine’s arm. The moment she did however, she felt her palms begin to heat up and light erupted from them. She yelped as she discharged a burst of psionic light that knocked them both aside.

                “Watch it!” Logan growled, then paused in surprise, hearing the dangerous snarl in his voice. He didn’t feel right suddenly. Looking around, the faces of his teammates were growing less familiar and he felt a nervous panic start in his chest.

                Both Scott and Jubliee were looking at him with trepidation.

                “Logan…?”

                His sensitive hearing suddenly honed in on the music outside, making it seem all too loud and harsh, and even the lights and smells within the room were overwhelming. He snarled, shaking his head, falling back towards the wall.

                He could smell fear coming off Jubilee like wind off the ocean, and Scott…Scott didn’t smell like himself at all. He didn’t even smell human in that moment.

                “No, no, shit….” He growling, muttering, hearing his voice lose some of its cohesiveness. He knew this feeling; this detached regressed phase, though he hadn’t experienced it since the days of Weapon X and his time under Stryker’s thumb.

                Panic was setting in. His claws loosed themselves, and Jubilee screamed in surprise, letting off another burst that broke the light above the sink and sent it crashing to the floor with a clang. Logan bared his teeth and snapped at her in fear.

                He turned on Scott, his eyes more black than blue, panting and crouched. He was losing control, losing the battle over his basic feral instincts. The animal was taking over, and somehow, even with his diminished capacity, he knew it was Scott’s doing.

                “Stop!” he snarled. “Stop it now!”

                Cyclops didn’t respond. He seemed shocked at his teammate’s reduced state, but he made no effort to help.

                “What’s going on?” Storm’s voice suddenly interrupted them, making all three turn towards her.

                “Ro, help!” Jubilee cried, rushing her, keeping her hands pointed at the ground as yet another burst of light exploded from them, knocking her off balance and making her crash to the floor. Storm dropped beside her, trying to help her up.

                “Something’s wrong! Something’s wrong with them!”

                The dark skinned woman looked at the remaining men in surprise, searching for explaination. Logan looked at her helplessly for a moment, hunched and panting, his eyes more like an animal’s than a man’s and then took a run for the back of the house towards where the guest room was.

                “Logan!”

                Storm lifted Jubilee and started after him but Scott barred her path. “You don’t want to follow him. He’s liable to rip you to pieces.”

                She glared him down, eyes turning from grey blue to milky white as the humidity in the room suddenly shot up drastically, making them all sweat. “What did you do?”

                “Nothing,” Scott answered, but there was uncertainty in his voice. Some of his anger dissolved under Storm’s scrutiny, and he felt himself coming out of detached sort of haze. It was as if for the first time he realized that the scene around him was actually taking place.

                She put her hand on his arm, squeezing hard. “Scott. What did you do?!”

                The air around them crackled and felt electrified, and there seemed to be a new, steady breezing growing within the confines of the house. The windows and doors shuddered faintly in their frames. On the floor, Jubilee reached for something to brace herself with.

                “Let go of me, Ororo.” He warned. “I don’t want to hurt you. _Please._ ”

                She glared at him, and only when the books and picture frames began to shake themselves from shelves and tables did she pause to look around in confusion. This was not her will. Her powers were acting on their own.

                She looked at Scott again, this time with less ire and more dread. “You need to leave! Before something—“

                A clock came rattling off the wall in the growing wind and flew towards them. It struck Ororo across the forehead, knocking her down. Scott cried out and reached for her, but as he tried to look at the bloody cut that appeared across her forehead, the woman shouted and blew him back, sending him flying into the air and crashing against the wall, which he slid down with a groan.

                “Holy shit!” Jubilee screamed from her hiding place as Storm rose into the air, and the air around them turned into a howling vortex that bodily dragged her across the floor. She managed to grab the edge of the couch and pull herself behind it, balling herself up as household items levitated from their spots, spinning haphazardly around in the miniature twister.

               

**

               

                The Cajun had skulked off to the back of the house that overlooked the woods beyond. Even before he drew within ten feet of the man, he could feel the frustration rippling off him like steam. He had forgotten for a moment that Gambit’s channeling of emotions could run both ways.

                “Va-t’en!”*

                Hank hesitated at the command, but resisted the urge to slink away, remembering what Logan had said.

                “I’m not trying to corner you. I just want to talk.”

                “T’ink talkin’ isn’t de best idea today. Every word out of someone’s mouth lately is just a list of t’ings I’ve screwed up. Or dey _t_ ’ _ink_ I’ll screw up…silence is preferable at dis rate.”

                Hank began to argue the point, but thought better of it. The man in front of him looked so bitter and dejected. Now was not the time to argue viewpoints. Perhaps it was better just to listen.

                He settled at the rail, careful to give the other man some distance. Above them, the clouds caused by Ororo’s flaring powers continued to roll and churn, though they were growing lighter and thinner as the seconds ticked by.

                “Your choice absolutely matters.” Hank said then. “It matters most in fact.”

                Remy shifted and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Hank offered him a smile and was surprised when Gambit attempted to return it. “First sensible t’ink you’ve said in days.”

                Hank chuckled ruefully. “Well…I suppose you may be right. I am…so very sorry for what I said before. It was out of line. You know…God, you must _know_ I don’t blame you for any of that. I suppose there are times I try to put myself in your place, and I cannot _fathom_ how you manage as well as you do. If it were me…my trust would be broken entirely.”

                Remy nodded, though didn’t say much otherwise. Hank felt his heart sink a bit more. “I really do think the world of you, Remy. In fact…”

                The words died on his lips however, when the other mutant reached over and grabbed his arm. “Hank, look!”

                Startled, Beast followed his gaze and was shocked that in the middle of the hazy July humidity, the lake below them had turned into a frosted, solid sheet of ice.

                Both men cast about for an explanation, but it was Hank’s keen eyes that spotted Bobby standing on the opposite shore. “Well, that’s certainly one way to make an entrance.” He sighed, adjusting his glasses, which had fogged as result.

                “Oh great, more of my fans.” Gambit grumbled.

                The air picked up suddenly in a harsh gale, causing them both to cringe and brace themselves against it.

                “What on earth is--?”

                There was a deafening thundercrack and a bolt of lightning erupted from the now green and black sky above them and struck the top of the house, sending pieces of blackened and burned singles flying in all directions.

                “Ororo!”

                Fighting the wind, the pair battled their way around the building, gripping the wall to keep from being blown away as the sky began to batter them with hail the size of fifty-cent pieces. Beast howled and dug his claws into the wood siding, ears flattened to his head. Remy somehow managed nudge past him, flattening himself as completely as he could against the side of the house. The window above their head blew out abruptly, spraying them both with glass. But it was not because of the tumultuous wind storm, but rather a screaming eruption of light and color.

                “What the hell is going on!?”

                Remy grabbed hold of the window ledge and slung himself inside. But it was no safer in than it was out.

                Furniture was overturned everywhere, and the lights flickered crazily. Ororo was levitating in the middle of the room, screaming as she threatened to rip the house from its foundation with its powers.

                “RO! WHAT’S HAPPENING?!”

                Jubilee, who was tucked behind the over turned couch, her hands shoved into a cushion, looked up at him desperately.

                “Gambit! Help!!”

                Remy rushed towards her, just managing to avoid the toaster that flew at his head as he battled his way across the room.

                “I’ve got you petite, hold on to me—“ he began to pull her against him, but she screamed and pulled away.

                “No!”

                No sooner had he tried to dislodge her from the cushion there came another explosion of light from her hands and knocked him backwards, momentarily blinding him.

                “Our powers are going crazy! You need to stay back!”

                LeBeau tried to blink the spots from his vision, flattening himself to the floor as he felt the tornado force winds from Ororo trying to suck him towards the center of the vortex.

                “Easier said den done!” he yelled back. He pulled himself across the floor, finally managing to grab hold of a center beam in the room, which he wrapped an arm and leg around to keep himself from being sucked into the air.

                “ORORO!” he shouted again, but the woman remained deaf to his cries. She didn’t seem to be aware of anyone in fact, just floating in the eye of the hurricane, merely the conduit of her deadly abilities.

                He fumbled in his pocket, but there was nothing he could charge that was heavy enough to withstand the wind. He was going to have to get closer. Taking a breath, he let go of the beam and let himself be swept forward.

                He made a reach for her, but missed and instead found himself tossed into a bookshelf, which overturned on him. He managed to avoid being crushed, but was still pinned, his left leg trapped from the thigh down.

                Gambit tried to pry the weight off him, only to feel a sudden new weight added. He looked up and saw Logan crouched there on the other end of the shelf, claws extended, teeth bared, eyes big and black and unrecognizable.

                Remy knew what an animal looked like when it was about to pounce.

                “L’enfer!” he cursed as Logan sprang at him, not recognizing him by sight or smell, only seeing a threat.

                Gambit was prepared, forcing the shelf up just as Logan’s weight left it, and forcing it to collide violently with his lover’s face, knocking him back. Wolverine’s claws had ripped through the back of the shelves, rendering the thick wood to splinters.

                Now free, Remy scrambled up, feeling himself pulled by the wind that threatened to blow him off his feet and pulled his staff from his belt. Logan pounced again with another howl and Gambit did the only thing he could.

                He charged his staff, swung it like a bat, and let it connect with Logan’s head.

                There was a crunch, a clang, and then a loud deafening POP as it exploded. Storm was blown aside, dropping to the ground. Jubilee screamed as the explosion practically demolished the room, and chunks of roof and insolation came tumbling down as broken electrical wires sparked and fizzled.

                The windows had all been blown out, the side door closest to them was mangled and lying on the porch.

                Wolverine was in a heap on the floor, smelling of burned skin and hot metal.

                For a moment nothing moved.

                Scott, from his slumped place against the wall, cautiously lifted himself from the floor. He shook violently, looking around at the damage. Logan wasn’t moving, neither was Storm.

                Jubilee was groaning from her place on the floor, and outside…outside something was happening still. He took a cautious step forward, knees threatening to buckle. Where was Gambit?

                Remy had been close to the deck doors when he had struck Wolverine. The blast caused by the explosion—far more powerful than what he’d intended—had propelled him through the door and across the deck.

                Actually. Not across the deck. _Over_ the deck. The railing was ruined where the man’s body had collided with it.

                Scott cried out in horror when he realized what happened and stumbled his way across the wreckage to the outside. He was stunned to see the entire back side of the house frosted over, huge ice icicles hanging from the eves, and the lake below them frozen over like glass.

                Except the very large hole, where Gambit had broken through.

                The water beneath the surface was churning however, and Scott looked down, transfixed, not understanding.

                A few seconds later something came rushing towards the surface, and with a scream of breath, Beast and Bobby emerged, Gambit dangling between them, coughing and sputtering.

                Bobby was easily able to climb out onto the ice above, which turned more solid beneath his hands and feet in his ice form. Hank handed Gambit’s limp figure to him, and then shakily pulled himself out of the hole as well, shivering and coughing violently, soaked to the bone.

                “Remy?! REMY!”

                Hank shook the man, who was shivering violently, lips already blue and ice sticking to his skin. “Bobby, get us off the ice!”

                Ice Man nodded, looking up at Scott who was already scrambling down the pier towards them.

                Drake propelled them across the ice towards Scott, who helped the trio onto the pier. Hank’s fur hung in frozen chunks around him, but he did little to acknowledge them, rushing to peel off his and Lebeau’s soaked and frozen clothes. “Blankets! I need blankets now!”

                Bobby stumbled to comply while Scott stood rooted to the spot. Hank turned to him, golden eyes dilated and actually roared at him, baring his fangs. “GO!”

                Bobby grabbed Scott’s arm and tugged him after him until they reached the top of the deck where the ruins of the house were far more apparent.

                “Oh my God…”  Bobby rushed in, staying in his ice form to protect himself against the broken glass and debris as he moved to help the others.

                Scott lingered behind, still reeling from the events. He looked up, seeing more people headed hurriedly towards the house. Obviously the commotion hadn’t gone unnoticed.

                “What do I do?”

                _You can’t let them know_

                “What do you mean…? I didn’t—I didn’t want to--!”

                But it was too late to explain things now. If the Professor knew, or suspected his involvement, he wouldn’t hesitate to incapacitate him. Possibly even kill him.

                Scott couldn’t allow that.

                Focusing on the scene around him, he tried to calm his nerves and focus. He found himself able to touch their minds, sifting through their thoughts and memories. He found himself in each and slowly started to fade himself from their thoughts, rearranging events until it appeared he had arrived at the scene only after the fact.

                Doing this felt wrong. He knew he was responsible. But the Phoenix’s voice in his mind persisted; he had to protect himself. He had to protect them. And this was all going to play out to his favor. If he just trusted them.

 

                On the pier, Remy shivered so violently he thought he was having a seizure. But heavy arms kept him close, shivering in their own time. Once he was able to blink the eye from his eye lashes and his vision cleared, he realized he was stripped down naked, pressed hard against Hank’s large hairy body.

                For a moment  the reality of this made no sense and Gambit wondered if he were dreaming.

                “Remy, are you with me?”

                “H-h-hank?” he stuttered, teeth chattering embarrassingly. He curled in on himself and Hank let him adjust while still keeping him close.

                “Help is coming. The ice is already starting to m-melt,” the feral mumbled, looking out across the lake as it began to thaw with the normalizing of the temperature.

                “W-what happened?”

                “I’m not certain. It seemed like we all e-experienced a freak f-fluctuation in our powers…” McCoy replied, though even as he said the words they seemed awkward on his lips. He wrapped himself closer around the other man. “You fell through the ice. Bobby and I fished you out. You’re going to be okay.”

                Remy frowned, trying to understand. The last thing he had remembered he was struggling to calm Ororo’s powers and then Logan had appeared…but things felt jumbled, out of place. He felt exhausted, arms and legs burning with numbness.

                McCoy nuzzled him and started to purr. Remy could hear his rapid heartbeat against his ear. With his guard down, Remy’s empathy made a link quick and involuntarily with Hank’s. He felt the man’s terror and concern, but even more prevalent was his affection. Something that was deeper rooted than the platonic relationship they had shared before.

                Confused, Remy severed the link with difficulty. It was too draining to hold and he felt himself bordering on blacking out again. He gripped Hank’s sides, knotting his fingers in his fur. “Henry,”

                McCoy’s pulse quickened at the way he said his name. Remy wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt the man press a kiss to the top of his head.

                Then someone else was beside them, talking quickly and Remy felt himself being pulled out of Hank’s arms and bundled in a blanket. “Hang in there, LeBeau, I’ve got you now.” Scott’s voice assured him.

                He pressed a warm soothing hand against the side of Gambit’s face and Remy smiled with blue lips. “Better late than never.”

               

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"va-ten!"--Go away!


	11. Chapter 11

 

                It was a scene he associated with the aftermath of a battle. Their team, shaken and battered but still determined, rallied around one another trying to make sense of the mess. It was not, however, how an evening spent quietly at home should have ended.

                It had been difficult to force McCoy to rest this time, but hypothermia could prove dangerous even through his thick hide of fur and muscle. Luckily, others were more than eager to assist with those who needed it and Hank was still completely capable of directing and overseeing, even if Charles was forcing him to do so under a heavy thermal shock blanket.

                Jubilee and Gambit had escaped the chaos with surprisingly minor harm, and Bobby and Scot had both come away unscathed for the experience. Storm and Wolverine had gotten the short end of the stick this time.

               

                Charles had separated them once more within the sick bay, leaving Colossus to monitor the two incapacitated X-Men while he tried to get some answers out of the others.

                Remy continued to shiver in bed, wrapped in a heated blanket, holding a steaming cup of hot water to help warm and re-hydrate him. Hank sat between him and Jubilee, who was having her various cuts and bruises cleaned and covered by McCoy, even though his fingers trembled with cold.

                “You are both extremely lucky…” he reminded them. “It could have been so much worse. I’m amazed nothing heavier fell on you, Jubilee! You were wise to take shelter where you did.”

                “Yeah well, wasn’t much place else I could get to before everything went nuts,” the girl replied. She rubbed her head, still feeling foggy about the whole thing. Her eyes drifted to Scott and Bobby, who were across from them, sitting in awkward silence next to Xavier.

                “Do you remember how it began, Jubilee? Anything at all. Something that could have triggered the events?” Charles asked from his chair.

                The girl, her hair still speckled with dust from the aftermath, shook her head slowly. “No. I’m sorry…it’s all foggy now. I was talking to Logan about something but then it gets hazy…then I remember him running off and Scott coming in…sorry it’s all a blur.”

                “It’s quite alright,” Charles answered gently.

                His eyes fell to Scott. “How was Logan when you entered the house?”

                “Wolverine had already turned savage by the time I got there,” Summer answered, firm and low, scowling at the floor. “Storm was trying to deal with him, but she was losing control too. The whole thing went up like a powder keg, and then Remy showed up, trying to help…”

                “If by ‘help’ you mean nearly blowing Wolverine’s head off, I guess.” Bobby muttered.

                Gambit didn’t respond. In fact, he had barely said a word since they arrived back at the lab. Hank glanced at him worriedly, recognizing the signs of detachment.

                “Oh, like you were so much help, Bobby!” Jubilee snapped. “You froze the damn lake over and nearly turned Gambit and Beast into ice cubes!”

                “Enough bickering!” Charles snapped, looking from her to Bobby before Ice Man could even open his mouth to reply. Both of his younger students turned vaguely red in the face. “No one is to blame here,” he corrected sharply. “Clearly whatever caused the spike in your powers was something beyond any of your control. We are all extremely fortunate no one was more seriously injured…” he paused, “Both Storm and Wolverine will recover fully, I’m sure.”

                Hank nodded to confirm, and put a hand lightly on Remy’s knee. The Cajun flinched slightly and Hank removed his palm.

                Charles looked to Scott again. “What was it that drew you down to the lake house, Scott? Did you notice something strange before you arrived?”

                “No, Professor. It was just a feeling that something wasn’t right.” He answered.

                “Did you experience any loss of control yourself?”

                “When I started to argue with Storm…things in the room did begin to move on their own. But her powers were already picking up by then…I’m sorry I can’t be more specific.”

                Xavier eyed him silently for a second longer than necessary and nodded. “Bobby, how about you? You said you arrived late on the scene and that when you approached the water, your powers began acting on their own. Do you recall something particular about that moment? Or anything leading up to it?”

                Bobby thought carefully. “Well, I was upset…I don’t really remember _why_ I even went down there to be honest.”

                “What upset you?”

                Bobby’s eyes shifted towards Scott and he bit his lip nervously. “I…um…” he looked at Scott and Gambit nervously. “It’s nothing.”

                “We butted heads a bit,” Remy muttered, much to everyone’s surprise.

                “Over…?” Charles prodded.

                But Gambit wasn’t quick with a further explanation. He glared tiredly at Bobby and then at Scott and sipped at the mug in his hands. “Nothing important.”

                Charles looked weary and frustrated. “No one can clearly remember a thing then, am I correct? That is most troubling indeed. I think this conversation is best reconvened when we are all a little less shaken.”

                “I agree,” Hank replied.

                Xavier turned his chair, “I’ll check on your other patients, Hank. In the meantime, rest and collect yourselves. This issue is far from over.”

                He excused himself without further complaint and Bobby sighed. “Sometimes I think the Professor confuses us for his children. I was waiting for him to tell us that we’re grounded from TV for a week.” He chuckled half-heartedly and waited for a like response. But no one much seemed in a laughing mood.  The tension in the room was more than Bobby could handle, however. He needed levity, he needed the silence to break. He needed focus.

                “Well, now that we’ve all almost killed each other, let’s call that our quota for the year and let it go at that, right?”

                “Bobby stop,” Scott said next to him, hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright. You don’t have to do this.”

                Drake looked at him, not quite knowing how to answer. “Well it’s either laugh or cry, right? I mean…we don’t know what’s going on. Why everything went weird.”

                “No, we don’t. But I’m sure it’ll come to light in time,” Hank cut in, looking carefully from Ice Man to Cyclops, who remained passive.

                “I really want to go to bed.” Jubilee groaned, sliding off the gurney and wincing as she did so. “But not here. Can I go to my room?”

                “Of course,” McCoy nodded.

                She stopped to hug Gambit tightly, and he promised to look on her later and let her know how things were progressing, before limping away from the group.

                Gambit finally gave up on his drink and set it aside, getting to his feet. “I’m going to go check on de others.”

                Hank looked at him nervously, “I don’t think that’s the best idea just now…”

                Remy stood beside him for a moment and then replied, “You don’t want me to see what I did to him. But I already know.”

                “His healing factor is fast,” the doctor amended. “The worst of the damage was already repairing itself by the time we got here. But he’s still unresponsive and I just don’t see how it would be helpful to you…”

                “It’s not about me.”

                Bobby scoffed quietly in the background and Gambit’s spine went rigid. He turned towards Ice Man with a gaze that could rendered him dead where he stood. “Somet’ing funny about dat?”

                “Just…well, everything’s about you, isn’t it?” the younger man muttered in response.

                “Bobby, stop it!” Scott hissed next to him and the younger man flinched, folding his arms across his chest as he stepped away from the taller man, turning to him defensively.

                “Look, I’m just tired of it, okay? Everybody constantly acts like he’s so damn fragile. ‘Oh don’t upset Remy!’ Yeah, don’t upset him…he might blow your fucking head off.”

“That’s enough. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Scott warned, looking at him in warning.

But the more Scott scolded him, the more he defended Remy, the more irrational and angry Bobby felt. The words were coming out on their own, spewing forth without thought, just misdirected anger; “You saw it, Scott! You were in there, you saw what he did to Wolverine! They act like he needs to be protected from the world, but really it’s us who need to be protected _from him!_ ”

“You t’ink for one second dat I intended dat kind of damage?!” Remy yelled, heart pounding in his ears. “Logan didn’t recognize me, he was out of his head, he came at me wit claws, what was I supposed to do?!”

“We were all out of control of our powers, Bobby, it’s preposterous that you’d expect more of Gambit than of yourself!” Scott cut in again.

“Stop defending him!” Bobby barked back with surprising venom in his voice, eyes tearing up. “God, Scott, he could fuckin’ MURDER someone in front of you and you’d still say ‘Poor Remy, he doesn’t mean it!’ Bullshit! How long does he get to play the victim card? But then again, Gambit likes cards…”

                Remy crossed the short space between them before either McCoy or Summers could stop him and punched Bobby hard in the mouth, knocking him back against the bed, which slid across the floor under the force as Drake fell back on his ass.

                “I ain’t yer damn whipping boy, Drake!” the southerner spat at him as Scott got his arms around him, pulling him back to keep him from another attack.

                “Come on, come on!” Scott hissed, pulling Remy from the room and vanishing as Hank reached to help Bobby.

                “God…I think he cracked my jaw…” he groaned. Hank yanked him roughly to his feet and looked at him harshly.

                “I almost hope he did.”

                He grabbed the younger X-Man by the scruff of his neck and frog marched him into his office, where they could be away from prying ears or eyes.

                “Sit down.” Hank ordered, pushing him towards a chair.

                Bobby moaned and rubbed the back of his neck, “What are ya so sore at me for?” he muttered, knowing the question was stupid before he said it.

                “Bobby, I’ve known you since you came to this school, a scrawny teenager with no direction and a hunger to prove himself. You’re like family to me. You know that.”

                “Yeah, Hank, sure—“

                “Then, that being said, I NEED you to pull your head out of your ass. If you can’t, then I’m going to have to extract it myself.”

                “Was that a proctologist joke…?”

                “Do I appear as if I am joking at the moment?” Hank growled, and Bobby dropped into his seat nervously, shriveling under the ferocity of the older man’s golden gaze.

                “No, sir.”

                “Glad to have made myself clear. But the matter remains…I am surprised he only hit you once for what you just said in there.”

                “I thought you were on my side,”

                “There are no _sides_ , Bobby! Good Lord, what is going on with you? Where is all this hatred coming from? Gambit has never done anything to you to deserve—“

                “But Scott--!”

                “If he doesn’t return your affections than it’s your own fault!” Hank roared, startling even himself.  Afterwards neither man spoke, and Hank looked shaken, maybe even a little bit sick. It was of course, not because what he said wasn’t true, or even that it was harsh. But that he was actually speaking of himself in that moment. It winded him.

                “Are you done?” his team mate asked quietly after a moment. Hank shook his head, raking his fingers through his thick mane of hair.

                “No, actually. We seem to be in the same uncomfortable position we were when this mess started. That feels like ages ago now…” He took off his glasses and sat down as well, pulling on his lab coat to help keep his temperature regulated. “You don’t really believe what you said out there.”

                “I don’t know what I believe.”

                “Do you truly see Gambit as threat? Or just a romantic rival?”

                Bobby’s face was red, either with anger or embarrassment Hank couldn’t tell. Either way he could smell that the young man was on the verge of tears.

                “I don’t know. I really don’t! I just know something’s weird, something’s _wrong_ with Scott. And I don’t know why, I just feel like it has a lot to do with Gambit. I don’t know…if it’s intentional or not. I don’t want to believe it is. I tried to talk to him about it but he won’t listen to me! He’s just as stubborn as Logan.”

                “Did you try to _talk_ to Remy, or did you attack him as you did in there?” Hank prodded.

                Bobby hung his head. “I might have…been kind of a jerk. I just don’t understand why he won’t back off.”

                “Charles asked him to help.”

                “But don’t you think it’s weird, the way they are around each other? I know you’ve seen it Hank, and I know it bothers you too. I may be out of line, but at least I’m up front about shit. You’re just stewing in the background.”

                Hank frowned. “If by that you mean I haven’t been an openly aggressive douche-bag, then I agree. However, I’ve observed troubling behavior on both ends.”

                “See?”

                “Listen, if you truly believe that something is going on with the two of them, then you need to reign in your emotions and help me figure this out. It’s quite possible that Gambit’s empathic powers are feeding into Scott’s new found telepathic ones. It could be affecting them, and possibly the rest of us, without them realizing it.”

                “So you don’t think I’m crazy?”

                “I think you’re sexually frustrated and you’re taking it out on Remy. But I also believe that your theory of their powers impacting each other in a negative manner is a sound one.”

                “How do we fix it?”

                “We can’t do anything right now. You’ve already made an ass of yourself once today, and I feel like isolating Scott will only make things worse. Clearly he’s formed a hefty attachment to Remy. He’s trying to cope with his trauma, and that’s not a bad thing. I don’t want to do more harm…”

                “But what if it turns out like Scott and Logan did? What if Scott goes off the rails if Remy rejects him?”

                “If?”

                They stared at each other a moment and it was Bobby’s turn to look smug, “You seem so certain LeBeau wouldn’t go for him. Why is that?”

                “I’m sure Remy’s empathy can distinguish between obsession and love. Scott may care for him, he may indeed be infatuated with him, but it’s not real. And if he were looking for another partner, which I doubt…certainly there are better prospects. People with genuine interests.”

                Bobby stared at him for a moment longer and Hank squirmed uncomfortably.

                “Oh my God, you have a thing for him.”

                “No—“

                “Uuuuuuuuuugh that is so…so….dammit Hank, why!?”

                “Excuse me, I don’t recall asking your opinion on—“

                “No no, it’s cool man, it’s cool. I get it. You being a doctor and all and the whole damaged goods thing—“

                “Bobby that is _enough_!”

                “Is it the accent? I bet you get hot when he starts saying things in French…”

                Hank roared like a lion and Bobby leaned back in his seat to escape the force of it.

                “Whoa.”

                “Are you going to help me with this or not?”

                “Be part of your break up crew? Sure.”

                “That’s not at all what this is—“

                “Keep telling yourself that Hank. Keep telling yourself that.”

 

**

 

                Scott managed to get Remy away from the infirmary, guiding him into a class room where they would be undisturbed.

                He expected that Remy would continue to rant and seethe with the same rage he had in lab, but instead the Cajun just slumped into a chair, head down, utterly silent. But Scott could feel and see his emotions getting the better of him. Remy’s skin crackled with tiny sparks and magenta colored lightning. He almost seemed to glow with it.

                Scott felt the weight of his fear, his self-hatred and his anger. It mirrored much of his own. Seeing it in another person, someone he had come to respect and care for so much, made him feel helpless. He wanted to take that feeling away.

                The Phoenix, however, reveled in Gambit’s loss of control. It had fed off Jean’s desires, tasted what it was like to be Human, to hope, need, desire and despair. It hadn’t forgotten that. And its growing need to absorb not only experience but energy demanded to be satisfied.

                “Remy,” Scott moved close to him, kneeling next to him on the floor. “I know how it is to feel responsible all the time. And people will not hesitate to reinforce that when things get rough. But what happened back there was none of your doing and…I think you know that.”

                No response. Scott touched his knee lightly and try to get him to look at him. “Remy come back. Please don’t shut down.”

                “Go away Scott.” He mumbled. “I can’t help you. I can’t even help myself.”

                Cyclops ignored him and instead put his arms around him and hugged him tight. The connection was immediate, the forceful clash of empathic and telepathic abilities made both gasp with the shock of it.

                The sparks of energy that had covered Remy’s skin moments ago now covered Scott’s as well, growing in number and intensity. Scott latched on hard, feeling the Phoenix take control, ravaging the power source.

                Gambit’s own powers responded by doubling their intensity, trying to protect it’s host. Remy’s red irises changed to the same jewel bright color of his energy and his skin started to glow as if lit from inside. He gripped Scott’s shoulders hard and tried to dislodge him.

                “S-stop! Can’t hold it back!”

                Scott grit his teeth and attempted to comply, but he could not bring himself to do so. The rush of power that filled him was too intense, too intoxicating. In his mind the Phoenix begged him for more and more. But his own consciousness fought back against the temptation.

                His mind reached out to Remy’s, managing to somehow push through the wall of resistance that usually blocked telepathic intrusions.

                _“Remy hang on! I’m not going to hurt you, I promise!”_

_“Scott it’s too much! It’s going to kill us both!”_

_“I won’t let that happen. Trust me, please!”_

Gambit tried to resist once more, causing the connection to weaken. Scott saw his moment to strike and forced the Phoenix to relinquish its hold. The connection between he and the other mutant broke immediately, and while Gambit’s skin was almost instantly drained of its magenta glow, Scott’s began to take on a luminescence of its own.

                Heat rippled up his arms and legs, seeming to pool in his chest and surge upwards as though it would shoot out his mouth. He shuddered as looked at his veins, bright against his skin like thin rivers of gold and red. The universe seemed to explode before his eyes and he could see the stars and planets, galaxies and far reaching universes. Eons of existence unfolded in his memory; the life and death of countless civilizations, the consciousness of worlds that were no more than space dust now. Scott saw it all through the Phoenix’s eyes. He saw it’s potential. He saw its terrible loneliness. The elation it felt when it had bonded with Jean and through her, for the first time, experienced consciousness of a different kind. He also saw it’s ravenous, corrupted hunger for the uniqueness of Human experience. It was so much to take in.

                He knew if he continued, he would be swallowed up, his own awareness destroyed by the Phoenix. And it would have been easy to give up then. He felt so very small, so insignificant. But small or not, he resisted. He wasn’t going to let the Phoenix have its way. If it was going to use _his_ body, _his_ mind, it was going to be on _his_ terms. He owed that to Jean. He owed that to all of them.

                Scott gathered all of his strength of will and forced the other back. He was _Scott fucking Summers. Cyclops._ No one to be used and trifled with. This power was his to command. Remy had showed him he could. And he dared anyone, even the great Charles Xavier, to stand in his way.

                He exhaled deeply, regaining control. The light faded from his skin the same as it had Gambit’s, but Scott could still feel the energy circulating inside him, reviving and strengthening him. There was quiet in his mind for the moment, and he felt relieved. He was himself again.

                In front of him Remy slumped to the side, drained, exhausted. Scott gathered him up easily, leaving the class room and heading towards his room upstairs. Gambit needed to recover, and Scott needed to keep him away from the others. It was better for both of them.

                “Where are you going, Scott?”

                Charles’ voice was calm, even as he spoke, but his student could hear the under current in his tone; the unease he felt.

                “I don’t need or want your concern, Professor. I’m not one of your lost sheep. I’ve found my way.”

                “I know you believe that. But the Phoenix can’t be trusted. It was never meant to interact with our awareness, it hasn’t the means to control its urges or impulses. It will lie to you, manipulate you, to get what it wants.”

                Scott looked at him bitterly. “Then you have something in common.”

                Xavier looked wounded, but said nothing, knowing he deserved the comment. He hadn’t been honest with Scott. He had taken his loyalty and his love for granted. The result of his misguidance was staring at him with eyes he barely recognized.

                His eyes slid towards Gambit. “You’ve weakened him significantly. And I fear, begun some sort of reaction in his mutation.” He edged closer to them in his wheelchair, remaining cautiously calm. “Please. Let me help you. Before this gets out of hand.”

                “Help me how? By containing me, putting me in prison like they did Erik? Or maybe you’ll put me in Cryo and play around in my mind, rearranging things to your liking.”

                “I wouldn’t do that Scott.”

                “Stop lying to me.”

                Xavier stilled, looking at the man with a muted, terrified expression.

                _“What do you know?”_

_“Everything.”_

_“Then please don’t make my mistakes.”_

                Scott adjusted Remy in his arms and turned his back on the Professor, continuing on his way. He only got a few steps before he felt himself stopped in his tracks, unable to make his body respond.

                “One last chance, Scott. Give Gambit to me. Stop this madness before it consumes you the same way it did Jean!”

                To his immense surprise then, Scott turned and waved a hand towards him. Charles’ chair was flung backwards down the hall until it crashed into a wall, knocking him from it and dumping him on the floor with a groan.

                He tried to retaliate, but Scott’s mind was unreachable. There was only a wall of fire, and the figure of the firebird, forcing him back, threatening to burn him from the inside out if he continued to interfere.

                “Scott!”

                Cyclops ignored him, free from his influence and vanished down the corridor, leaving Charles stranded on the floor, struggling to catch his breath, blood dripping from his nose as his head throbbed.

 

 

***

 

 

                Somewhere around 3 a.m., Storm came to herself.

                Waking up anywhere but her own bed was always an unpleasant feeling; waking up in the infirmary even more so. Her memories clicked back into place one by one as her body began to shake off the lethargy. She remembered the lake house, and the dinner, and arguing with Scott. She remembered Logan acting savage, fleeing her. Everything else was more like a dream. She hadn’t been at the mercy of her powers in such a way since she was a child.

                Now however, she felt calm, in control. She felt like herself, and that was already a weight off her chest, as so many mornings she found herself feeling otherwise. She sat up, pulling off sticky monitor patches from her skin and tossing off the blankets.

                She was alone in her isolate, and the infirmary was eerily quiet. Pulling a robe around her, she glanced at the clock and realized the late hour was probably responsible for the quiet. Still, she was sure that Hank was somewhere about and that he would be ready with answers, or at least theories, as to what had happened to herself and the others.

                The other beds were empty, except one.

                Ororo was startled indeed to find Logan there. She moved next to him hurriedly, noting that his skin seemed fresh, almost raw on more than three fourths of his face, and his hair seemed shorter there as well, as if it were re-growing. She touched him, but he didn’t wake, and that was worrisome. It wasn’t easy to knock Logan down, it was even more so to keep him that way.

                She tried to think again of the chaotic events of the previous afternoon, but the details were simply lost. She hoped that she hadn’t been caused his injuries, feeling her anxiety rise. She leaned over him and kissed his hair and forehead, trying again to wake him, but he remained still.

                “He’s alright, Ro.”

                Hank’s soft voice startled her and made her turn, clutching her chest. “For as big as you are, Henry McCoy, you make less noise than a mouse.” She muttered.

                “I’m sorry. But I’m glad to see you up all the same.”

                She stood and moved to the edge of Wolverine’s bed to speak to him more clearly, “Something terrible happened back there, Hank. I’ve never felt my powers react that way before. Were we attacked by something?”

                “Not that I’m aware of. The details are a bit hazy. I’m hoping we’ll have a better account once Logan regains consciousness.”

                “Why hasn’t he? What happened to him?”

                He could tell she was afraid of the answer. Hank realized she must have thought it had been the result of her loss of control, that he had been struck by one of her lightning strikes or something of the like.

                “You were not the only one who lost control of their abilities. Logan reverted to his feral state and attacked. Remy stopped him, but experienced a power surge of his own. It dealt a rather devastating blow to Logan’s head…if it weren’t for his adamantium skeleton, I’d say it would have been crushed in, if not removed entirely.” He cringed when he realized he’d spoken this without a filter. Often his medical mind made him forget how gruesome these things could seem to others.

                “But his healing factor has done its job without fail, not to worry! I expect he’ll recover entirely and…possibly without memory of the incident itself.”

                Storm dropped down on the edge of Logan’s bed, some of the color drained out of her face at the thought. She put her hand on his knee, looking back at him remorsefully. “He’s not in any pain?”

                “No. I gave him a tranquilizer I designed specifically to deal with his healing abilities. I didn’t want him to be awake for the, um, re-growing process.”

                “Thank you for taking such good care of us, Hank.”

                The doctor smiled warmly, “No thanks necessary.”

                “Where’s Remy? Was he hurt?”

                “He was thrown by the explosion into the lake, but he’s fine now.” She seemed relieved for a moment and then stood up, “Why isn’t he here?”

                McCoy faltered faintly, “Well…tensions are running high. He and Bobby got into a bit of a scuffle. Scott took him aside to cool off.”

                The woman’s face darkened and she laid a hand to her head in exasperation. “I don’t believe this…”

                Hank put an arm around her and lead her away from the bed so that they would not disturb his other patient. “Don’t worry yourself about it. I’ve spoken with Bobby…it won’t happen again.”

                “I wish I could be sure of that, but just hearing that he’s with Scott when he should be here…”

                Hank realized for the first time that his feelings of jealousy in this matter were not shared just by Bobby but by her as well. And that signaled to him that this situation was even more unsavory.

                “You’re concerned about him too.”

                She nodded. “I shouldn’t be. Remy’s right, I’m holding him to entirely different standard…it’s not fair of me. But I don’t know how to let go of it. I don’t want any more bad blood between us. If he does fall for Scott, it’s going to break Logan’s heart and I can’t…Hank, I simply can’t watch it all again.”

                He hugged her tight. “It will be alright, Ro. Whatever happens, it will be alright. You and Logan aren’t going to lose him. He loves you both so much, I see it every day.”

                She nodded, laying her head against his chest. It calmed her and she felt some of the frustration leave her. After a time she looked up at him with a familiar resolve on her face. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

                She leaned up and kissed his cheek and then his lips and Hank purred. “It’s very late. Logan will probably sleep the rest of the night. Why don’t you stay in my room. The bed is far more comfortable.” He suggested. He looked back at Logan’s bed. “I’ll keep an eye on him while you rest.”

                “I’m not tired. But I’ll gladly share a cup of coffee and keep you company.”

                “I would like that.”

 

***


	12. Chapter 12

 

***

               

                Jubilee returned to her room but didn’t sleep much. Things around her team mates seemed to be snowballing at an unsettling rate, and she had a gnawing fear that the source of the discourse was as close as Wolverine feared.

                After today in fact, she was certain that Scott was responsible for Marcus’s murder. She groaned and pulled her pillow over her head, trying to will her brain to shut down and rest. This idea was too big, too scary to dwell on.

                But it wasn’t going away. And the more she thought about the disjointed events of the afternoon, the more she began to see it herself.

                She remembered following Logan into the kitchen, remembering bits and pieces of the conversation. Her mind often drifted, and she would catch bits and pieces of sentences. But usually she was quick enough to piece the information together and no one was the wiser.

                She remembered Scott appearing in the room. He shouldn’t have known anything about the meeting. He shouldn’t have been there. But it was like he had known exactly why they were all there. She closed her eyes hard, trying to focus. Things were becoming more jumbled now, scrambled, like she was flipping through channels.

                She remembered Scott and Logan yelling at each other. She remembered him trying to get her to leave.

                But the next thing she recalled was Storm entering the room, sweeping in and demanding to know what Scott had done.

                What had he done?

                Her hands still ached from the burns and from the erratic discharge of her powers. She rubbed the pads of her fingers against her palms, feeling the growing callouses there. Liking her lips, she sat up, looking around her room in the dark. She wondered if Wolverine or Storm had woken up yet.

                Her clock said 4 a.m.

                Even if they had come to, it was probably best to let them be. Morning would come soon enough.  She pulled her pillow into her lap and hugged it, trying to console herself.

                If everything they feared about Cyclops was true…what did that mean? She felt cold at the idea that he might be too far gone to rescue, as Jean had been. She couldn’t watch another of her friends, her mentors, be killed.

                Tears welled hot and sudden in the corner of her eyes and dribbled down like fat rain drops and she wiped them away in irritation. She wasn’t going to sit here and cower in her room like a child. Maybe there was still time to save Scott before the Phoenix—or whatever was wrong with him—could do more damage.

                She was sure Gambit would know what to do. After all, he’d spent more time with Scott than anyone recently, and Remy’s empathy always knew when there were ill intensions. She had just resolved to go seek out the man in question, when someone else came to her door.

                “Jubilation…are you awake?”

                “Professor?”

                He rolled into her room, closing the door quietly behind him, motioning for her to keep her voice down as he rolled closer to her bed. “I think it best we don’t draw attention to ourselves.” He whispered, then paused a moment. She felt a strange ripple go across the room, like a small pulse of energy, but passed quickly and nothing looked different.

                “I’ve set up a psychic bubble around us. No one will hear, see, or even acknowledge our presence if they were to walk into the room.”

                “Cool. Is that how you get people to leave you alone when you want to work?”

                The aged man gave her a smile. “I know it is very late, and you’ve been through a lot in the last few days. But I need your help on this.”

                “My help?”

                “You have the advantage of having been at both the scene of Marcus’s murder and the incident on the lake house. I know too that Logan has confided in you.”

                “Yeah but…you already know all that. I mean, Logan told me what you think is going on with Scott. It’s not true, is it?”

                “I can no longer doubt it. The Phoenix force is considerably weakened—it doesn’t realize how powerful Scott actually is. Which is the only reason we haven’t lost him entirely at this point. I prayed that Gambit might be able to strengthen Scott’s defenses, make him less vulnerable to its. I didn’t count on his energy being a catalytic force for it…”

                “Wait, what? Is Remy going to be okay?”

                “For now, yes. I do not believe Scott will try to do him harm. But that safety net is only there as long as he stays in control, not just of his thoughts, but his emotions, his desires as well. I think you know as well as I do how quickly things can change around here.”

                “What about Wolverine? Can’t he help?”

                “Logan can’t even get close to him without provoking him. And I’m certain that the Phoenix wants revenge against the man who destroyed his last host…” he paused, swallowing dryly. It felt wrong to be talking about Jean in such a cold, detached manner. “Hank was right that Scott’s mutation has been accelerated by the Phoenix’s influence. I think it is likely that the rest of us may be affected by it too, possibly permanently. We are too easily manipulated by its power…I need to seek outside help.”

                “Nobody I know would want to take this on. Aside from all the people who want to get rid of us. I’m sure they’d be happy to nuke the Phoenix right out of Scott.” She muttered. Xavier glanced around the room and found the girl’s laptop on her desk and scooped it up.

                “Hey! How about asking before you just—“ she pulled it from his hands with a grunt and scowled at him, cheeks flushed faintly. “It’s private, okay?”

                “I’m afraid I need into the house server. It’s important.”

                “Fine, I’ll get you in.”

                After a moment she brought up the browser page and turned control back to the Professor, who pressed a quick succession of keys that she didn’t quite catch, and found themselves hacked into a live feed from the war room’s main computer.

                “Whoa, how’d you do that?”

                “Hank isn’t the only one around here who knows about these things.” He answered.

                Jubilee peered over his shoulder as the Professor initiated a call to what seemed to be Stark Tower.

                “Wait…who are you--?”

                A moment later a video feed came up, and Tony Stark’s face appeared before them, looking more than a little surprised.

                “Good morning, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry to bother you at this hour.”

                “Jarvis,” Tony, who appeared to have been busy working on one of his many suit variants, called out to someone off screen. “You didn’t say the call was from Lex Luther.” He smirked at his own joke.

                “Very clever sir. The Professor did say it was urgent and you did set a priority protocol,” a computerized, if not refined voice answered.

                “Alright, alright I get it.”

                The bearded man came to sit a bit closer to the camera, looking between Jubilee and Xavier with renewed curiosity. “What can I do for you, Professor?”

                “The X-Men are in need of some of you and your associates expertise.”

                “Ah…and I assume by associates, you mean my buddies in tights, yeah?” he sat back, kicking up his feet and folding his arms across his chest, which still had the bright blue glow of the arch reactor that resided there. “And since you’re calling my personal line, and not going through SHIELD…I’m guessing this is a problem you want dealt with under the table.”

                “You make it all sound so weird and dirty. It’s not a mob hit.” Jubilee replied.

                Tony raised an eyebrow. “This one of your wards?” he chuckled.

                “What?”

                “Nevermind, I’m showing my age, apparently. I’m just saying it sounds like you need some discretion. What’s going on?”

                “I’d prefer to discuss details in person. I think it’s best if you and Mr. Banner could find time to visit our school; we’ll call it an outreach visit for science.”

                Tony laughed at the idea. “Alright then. You want me and the green guy…anyone else I should bring?”

                “I think a lower profile is necessary.”

                “Are you currently under threat?” Tony sounded more serious now, leaning a little closer, trying to read Xavier’s face.

                But Charles betrayed no emotion and simply shook his head. “We have it under control for the time being. I want to make sure it stays that way and that no further intervention is needed. I trust you understand.”

                “Sure thing. Tomorrow then. We’ll do lunch.”

                Xavier nodded and ended the call quickly, made some other key moves that Jubilee didn’t quite catch and shut down the computer abruptly.

                “Covering your tracks?”

                “As much as I can.” He replied. He took a moment to breathe and recollect himself. Jubilee thought he looked older in the dim yellow tinge of twinkling lights that hung around her bedframe. “Jubilee, I need you to be my go between. Scott will be less suspicious of your presence, and you can keep Logan and I in the loop. Talk to Gambit, learn what he knows.”

                “You want me to spy on him?”

                “If you want to put it that way, yes. Look for warning signs, anything that may mean Scott is losing control, that we need to step in.”

                “What will you do if he does?”

                “I don’t know. That’s why I need Stark’s help.”

                “You won’t….hurt him, will you?”

                “If there’s any way to prevent it, no. But I can’t just think about Scott. I have the rest of you to worry about too.”

                She hugged him, not because she needed it, but because he seemed to. He hugged her back hard, not wanting to let go.

                Xavier’s intentions had always been pure. But reality doesn’t work that way. It twists things, it forces you to do things you never thought you would. It makes you compromise. No one is exempt. Times like this he felt the full weight of taking on responsibility for all these lives around him, people who had come to love and depend on him for guidance.

                “I’ll keep an eye on things, Professor, don’t worry.”

                “Thank you.”

                “You owe me though. Like…so many day passes from school. And senior class privileges.”

 

***

 

                Morning arrived at a turtle’s pace, despite the early hour it rose in the summer time. It lazily crept between the trees, making the sky pale blue and yellow, and bringing with it the all too familiar summer heat and a chorus of chirping birds from the surrounding grounds.

                As promised, neither Ororo or Hank had returned to sleep that night, though McCoy looked worse for wear because of it. It was something of an accomplishment when you could see visible dark circles beneath his eyes.

                Storm was cuddled against him on a small love seat he had dragged out from his office, to allow them to be more comfortable while they waited for Logan to wake. The tiny isolate was calm and quiet, and filled with the smell of hot coffee.

                “He is going to wake up, isn’t he?” the woman beside him asked, drawing Hank from his silent thoughts, looking at her in surprise.

                “Of course. His vitals are all healthy and normal. There’s nothing to worry about.”

                “He never sleeps this long.”

                “Maybe that’s why he needs it so much.” He drank more of his coffee, licking his lips faintly. “Logan never slept much when we were together either, but he did like to doze. He’s like a large house cat at times.” He looked down at her. “But, I recall times when you didn’t sleep much either. Times you were up for days, gardening, reading…”

                “Or doing more reckless things.”

                “I wasn’t going to mention that.”

                “It’s alright, Hank. I’m…trying to come to terms with it. I was just angry; I didn’t want to admit that it was coming back again. I really wanted to believe I was cured.” She brushed her hair, now limp and hanging to one side of her head, back behind her ear. “It’s been…a wild year. So much has changed, and I guess it was just creeping back without my noticing. And then when I fought Jean, I think it really messed with my head. In so many ways.”

                He cuddled her a little closer. “I know, Ro. It’s alright.”

                “Hey,” a gruff voice said from the bed then. “What’s a man got to do to get some water around here…feel like I swallowed gravel.”

                “And there is he is, same as always.” Hank grinned, standing to allow Ororo to move towards him, while he fetched a water bottle.

                Storm pulled Logan in close as he sat up, and kissed him hard, pushing back his hair and looking him over carefully, as if to make sure everything was still in place. “You lazy cad, keeping us up all night worrying about you. Feeling better now?”

                “I suppose,” he grunted, “Though I don’t really know what yer talkin’ about.”

                Hank returned with the water, handing it over to Logan who drained it quickly. “You don’t remember the fight at the lake house?”

                “Fight?”

                Hank frowned, “I was worried about this. Short term memory loss. No surprised, considering—“ he cut himself off and pulled out his flash light, sitting down beside Wolverine to check his eyes, which Logan grunted and swatted at him for.

                “I’m fine, Hank. Just stiff…how long was I out?”

                “About twelve hours.”

                Logan shrugged, he’d been through worse. “Tell me more about this fight. Who’s ass do I need to kick more of?”

                “Logan, focus. What do you remember?”

                “I remember us having dinner. I remember you two fussin’ about LeBeau…” he looked up as if suddenly realizing his absence. “Where is Remy?”

                “Probably sleeping the night off. It’s very early yet, everyone’s in bed still.”

                “Focus. It’s important.”

                “I remember going into the kitchen with Jubilee…and Scott. I remember Scott walking in.”

                “Was that when he began arguing with Ororo?”

                “What? No, Ro wasn’t there…” he rubbed his head. “No, Slim just waltzed in out of nowhere, wanting to pick another fight. Can’t remember what he said, just remember getting angry…too angry. Ye ever been so angry that it’s like everything melts away? You feel like you’ve got coals in your chest and you can’t even see? It’s all impulse.”

                “You regressed quite suddenly. To your feral mind. Something triggered you.” Hank explained quietly.

                The black-haired man between them went quiet, looking unnerved. Storm put her hand over his and squeezed, “It’s alright. You weren’t the only one who lost control…apparently, we all did.”

                “Did I hurt anyone?”

                “No,” she answered. “Remy stopped you before you could.”

                He groaned and brought his hands to his face, digging the heel of his palms against his eyes, gripping his hair with his fingers, “Shit. Shit, shit _shit!”_

“It’s okay.”

                “Not okay. Me going feral is _never_ okay, do you understand? I’m a killer when I’m like that, pure and simple. There ain’t no reasoning, there ain’t no talking me down, there’s just…the animal.” He looked confused then. “How did the Cajun get me to stop?”

                Hank and Storm looked at each other in silence.

                Logan rubbed a hand over his face, his body remembering what his mind couldn’t. He had always known that Gambit was far more powerful than he let on; he hadn’t realized he was practically his match.

                “Well shit.”

                “Don’t be angry with him, Logan, he didn’t mean to--?”

                “Angry?” Wolverine questioned. “Hell, I’m _glad_. And impressed…but if I know him, he’s probably not feeling the same about it.” He started to climb out of bed, though both Hank and Ro seemed reluctant to let him go.

                He tugged himself out of the hospital gown, exposing his nakedness with little concern and grabbed the clothes that Storm had left in a bag for him at the end of the bed. “Ye gonna stand there and enjoy the show or what?” he smirked at them.

                Hank flushed and quietly excused himself, while Storm was not so easily chased away. “Where are you going?”

                “To check on our Cajun first. Then to have a little chat with Summers.”

                “No, and no.”

                “You say that like you think you can stop me.”

                “The lake house is in pieces, Logan. Our home is in ruins. We all nearly killed each other yesterday, and none of us really know why. You can’t go around picking fights with Scott like school boys!”

                “He had something to do with whatever happened in there. I’m sure of it.”

                “All the more reason for you to stay the hell away from him!”

                “Look sweetheart, I know you mean well, but this is bigger than you understand. At least if I’ve got Summer’s focused on me, he isn’t trying to hurt anyone else.”

                “Do you really think he wants that?”

                “I know he does. I see it in his eyes. He wants to bring me pain like no other. Makes sense. I ruined him.”

                “But do you want to hurt _him_?”

                He sighed heavily and sunk down on the edge of the bed. “No. God, _no._ ”

                She sat down beside him and laid her head on top his, pulling him in. “Then we need a new strategy. Scott seems to get most defensive when he’s around you. Let someone else step in for awhile, see if he changes his tune.”

                “Gambit’s already doing that.”

                “Yes,” she replied. “But I think he’s too close to the situation and that worries me too. Hank and I have been talking about it and I think we have a plan.”

                He chuckled, nuzzling her neck, hand in hers. “Well glad to see you were being productive while I was nappin’…”

                She smiled and tilted his head back to kiss him.  “Hey, someone messed with my boys. You think I’m gonna take that lying down?”

                He grinned at her. “Givin’ me shivers, darlin’.”

                “I’ll give you more later,” she promised, biting his lip slightly. “Right now though, we need to regroup.”

                He growled faintly in disappointment and kissed her neck. “Mm. If you say so, boss.”

                Someone appeared in the doorway then, but it wasn’t Hank. Instead a familiar, shorts and tank-top clad teen was staring at them.

                “Morning guys; sorry to interrupt your weird foreplay, or whatever.” Jubilee smirked at them, toying with her sunglasses, “Wolvie, glad to see you’re feeling better.”

                Both of her team mates looked both annoyed and mildly amused at her entrance. “I know that smirk. You’ve got something yer wantin’ to get off yer chest, am I right?”

                “You could say that. But I think we need to get the rest of the gang together first. We have surprise visitor today.”

 

**

                If Hank looked tired that morning, it paled to way Xavier looked. His good natured, clever featured looked sickly and haggard in the early morning light. But as usual, his mental fortitude was a stronger presence than his physical.

                Jubilee had lead them there, the key figures in his plan. Wolverine, Hank, Storm, Ice Man and herself. Though the idea that so many of their number were left out of the details of this delicate situation did not exactly sit well with any of them.

                “Where’s Remy?”

                Logan refused to take a seat, standing away from the large round table within Xavier’s so called “War Room”, which was sealed and private, annexed off of the Danger Room’s secure facilities.

                “Sleeping still, I sense.” Charles answered. “It is better that he not be present for this at any rate. It could compromise his position if Scott became aware of our plan.”

                “I don’t like the sound of that at all,” Bobby said darkly. “You make him sound like an enemy.”

                “No. A hostage would be a far better way to describe his position.” Xavier replied. “Yesterday’s incident at the lake house was no coincidence, no anomaly. My fears were confirmed last night by Scott himself; the Phoenix has returned. It has found host in him.”

                “Y-you have to get it out of him! You have to stop it!” Bobby was in a panic almost immediately, and it was Logan who moved to calm him.

                “Easy kid,”

                “W-why isn’t everyone else freaking out?!” he yelped, looking in exasperation at his fellow team mates, all who looked on in various states of distress. But none seemed as surprised as Bobby. “You…you guys already knew. Didn’t you?”

                “No one knew for sure, kid. Not till now.”

                “How do we stop it? How do we get it to leave Scott alone?”

                “It’s beyond any of our doing,” Charles explained. “The Phoenix is considerably weakened, and it is by that grace that Scott has managed to control it and maintain his own will. I suspect the Phoenix is either unwilling or unable to separate from him in this state. Anything that we might do to threaten it could cause the balance to shift and Scott to lose control. If that happens, I fear he won’t ever reclaim it.”

                “So…what do we do?”

                Logan looked on darkly at Charles, knowing what they had discussed, and letting the man know that he still despised the idea.

                “We called for reinforcements,” Jubilee said then, grinning as she looked at all of them, feeling rather important as she took center stage for once.

                “You did what?” Hank pondered.

                “The Professor and I came up with it last night. We needed someone that Scott wouldn’t suspect, someone who’s not a mutant. I guess the Phoenix doesn’t have much interest in regular humans.”

                “Tell me that you did not involve Fury and his men on this,” Ororo said, looking deeply concerned. “SHEILD already treats the Mutant Community as a potential threat. Their idea of helping Scott would be imprisonment and worse.”

                “Chuck’s no fan of Fury and his men in black,” Wolverine grunted.

                “Our truce with SHEILD is precarious at best.” Xavier answered. “I would not involve them in this. Not directly.”

                Hank eyed him curiously, adjusting his glasses. “Then I would guess…you went to a slightly more specialized source for assistance.”

                His friend nodded.

                “The Avengers!” Jubilee cheered. “Ooh I’ve never met one in person! Think Tony Stark gives out autographs?”

                “Stark?” Logan looked pensive. “Stark makes weapons. Toy robots and tin men. How’s he gonna help our bird problem?”

                “Dr. Banner has been called in as well. I need both their scientific expertise to come up with a solution.”

                “You’re bringing the Hulk here?” Bobby gasped.

                “Dr. Banner and the Hulk are two separate entities.”

                “Yeah, until you piss the guy with the glasses off.” Bobby looked about as pleased with this idea as Logan did.

                “What’s to stop Scott from reading their minds when they arrive?” Ororo asked.

                “Both were made aware of what they are walking into, and I have trusted them to take precautions. Plus, as Jubilee so aptly stated, the Phoenix has little interest in Humans unless they pose an immediate threat.”

                “Like Marcus.”

                Bobby looked at his mentor, fists balled up against his stomach. “Scott didn’t…”

                Logan only looked on and Ice Man put his head in his hands. “Oh my God…”

                “The Phoenix killed that man. Not Scott. He has no memory of the events.” Xavier replied.

                “Doubt if SHIELD will see it that way, Professor. They ain’t overly forgiving about possession or brainwashing.” Wolverine answered.

                “So what are we to do in the meantime?” Ororo inquired, looking disturbed at the situation at hand.

                “Do not raise suspicion. If you must interact with Scott, it must be with conscious effort not to confront or threaten. Remember that while he is in control, he is still our friend and we want him brought back to us safely. We need to give him reasons not to give into the Phoenix’s desires. Remind him of who he is and that we value him.” Xavier turned to Logan. “You are to keep your distance, Wolverine. The Phoenix will find you a threat first and foremost.”

                “It should. I ain’t lettin’ it take anyone else.”

                “I’m sending you on assignment elsewhere. To keep any eye on the problem in Salem Center and the anti-mutant terrorist group that seems to be forming there.”

                “I’m not leaving,” Logan cut in abruptly. “You need me. I’ll play nice with one-eye, but if shit hits the fan again, you know I’m the only one who can take the brunt of it and walk away.”

                “It’s not up for debate, Logan. I’ve already made arrangements for you, Kurt in town. You’re on reconassance.”

                Wolverine bristled at being ordered around like a military grunt once more. “Fine. But I’m taking LeBeau with me.”

                “Gambit stays put. He has a job to do.”

                Here Wolverine looked as if he might pop his claws at the old man. Storm looked no less outraged by the idea, her eyes flashing as she turned towards him.

                “His job was to help Scott manage his grief and depression. What you are proposing now is that he try to pacify a vengeful being who has possessed our friend and tried to kill us! That’s a bit of leap, isn’t it?”

                “Remy’s empathy can reach Scott, ground him, give him a foothold in this reality. Keep him _sane_ in a way that I failed to do for Jean. Gambit can’t become aware of Scott’s possession—the Phoenix will view it as a threat. He must remain here, and in the dark.”

                No one seemed very comfortable with that idea at all. It felt like sending their friend into a mine-field with a blindfold on. Logan was fuming.

                 “You’re deliberately putting him in danger; he doesn’t know what Scott is or what he’s capable of and you’re asking me to just _leave_? No, I don’t think so.”

                “Gambit is safer not knowing. He is safe while he can focus on helping Scott. If you’re around, his attention will be divided and you may unintentionally compromise him.” Xavier insisted, growing frustrated. “The Phoenix has developed an interest in Gambit. I’m not sure to what end, but separating him would provoke another attack that we can’t afford.”

                “I’m not gonna let you use him as bait!” Logan snarled.

                “He’s a _distraction,_ Wolverine. And with any luck, between the abilities of myself, Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner, we will have a solution to the problem quickly at hand and Remy can be extracted from the situation safely.”

                “That’s a big damn _if_.”

                “Mr. LeBeau is capable of handling this. I need you to trust his abilities. And mine.”

                “Fuck you,”

                Hank put his arm and Logan’s and ushered him towards the door, pushing him outside. Logan wrenched free and attacked the doors with his claws, leaving long ragged lines across the thick doors.

                “Calm down!” Hank commanded.

                “Fuck you! I’m tired of being a chess piece in this game of his—he’s not going to use me, or Remy or—“

                “Logan you have to stop!”

                “Don’t defend him! You can’t stand there and tell me you think this is right!”

                “We don’t have a choice!”

                “I have a choice. To walk away. It’s what I should have done to begin with…” he started off down the hall with Hank following doggedly at his heels.

                “If you take Gambit now Scott will try to stop you!”

                “Let ‘im. I’ll take off any hand he tries to put on me or him.”

                “And what if he turns you again?” Hank demanded, more loudly than before. “What then?”

                Wolverine finally came to a stop, though it looked like it took everything he had to do so, and then turned around, arms folded across his chest. “Alright, smart guy. What do you suggest I do?”

                “Listen to Charles. _For_ _now_.” McCoy offered. “It’s not as if you’ll be abandoning Remy. Ororo and I will keep an eye on things, make sure that he’s in no danger. But Remy _is_ safer not knowing…at least for now.”

                “I don’t like it.”

                “Sadly that was never part of the job description. Now, can you do this or not?”

                Logan growled deep in his throat, running a hand through his hair and knotting it there in frustration. Hank wanted to reach out and assure him, but he refrained.

                “Fine. We let Remy handle it, see if he can get Summers under control until Stark and Banner figure out a way to exorcise ‘im. But if he’s in trouble—“

                “I’ll pull him out. I’ll make sure that he is safe. You have my word. Nothing will happen to him.”

                “I’m trusting you McCoy. Don’t let me down.”

                Hank nodded solemnly.

 

**

               

                It was far later that morning before Gambit regained enough energy to open his eyes. Even then it felt like a mistake. He was stretched out in bed, facing a wall, seeing nothing but the shadow created from the window dancing there in the morning breeze and the faint sound of someone humming softly somewhere behind him.

                “Why do I feel like it’s de day after Mardis Gras?” he mumbled, managing to push himself up on elbows and turn over.

                Scott sat across from the bed in his arm chair, feet kicked up, reading a book and drinking coffee in nothing but a rumpled pair of jeans. The book hovered in front of him, it’s pages turning on their own, and the coffee cup in his hand kept refreshing and refilling itself each time he took a drink.

                Remy froze like a rabbit. “Scott?”

                Summers glanced up at him and then smiled, waving his book aside. It found a place on the coffee table and closed itself neatly. “Good morning,” he said, bright eyed and smiling. “Feeling better?”

                “Um…” Gambit pointed to the coffee. “Dat’s a new trick.”

                Scott laughed, “Yeah, I guess so. Would you like some?” A cup from the shelf across the small room rose suddenly and moved steadily towards Remy, who caught it and watched it fill with the same dark brew until it was full. It then turned from black to a rich caramel color and Remy could smell cream and the sharp notes of chicory in it.

                He stared at Scott. “Well if dat ain’t some Harry Potter type shit right dere…”

                Scott continued to smile, “It’s okay. Don’t be nervous. I’ve got it under control now. I was up all night practicing.”

                “Not nervous. Confused. Hung-over I guess…but not nervous.” He sipped the coffee and found it surprisingly good. “Not dat I don’t appreciate de room service and de wake up call, mon ami, but…why am I here?”

                Scott stood and Remy noticed again that he seemed to have changed physically, looking stronger and broader than before. He came to sit beside the man on the bed and Remy couldn’t help but notice the stark change in him. He no longer looked withered, sickly and despairing but now seem to practically vibrate with vivaciousness and life. There was a new spark of intensity and purpose in his eyes that Remy hadn’t seen before. One that reminded him of a fever dream. “I wanted to keep an eye on you, and make sure that you were okay after last night.”

                Remy tensed, swallowing roughly. Too many unpleasant conversations in his life had started out with a vague reference to the mystery events of ‘last night’. “Please be more specific.”

                “You don’t recall?”

                “I recall giving Bobby a five-fingered kiss on the lips and leavin’ de infirmary. Dat’s about it.” He seemed troubling to him that he wouldn’t recall anything before he had slept, but he supposed that the shock of the frozen water had caught up with him.

                “That’s too bad. It was…nothing short of incredible, what you did for me.”

                Now Remy really felt uncomfortable. “Homme, I hope you mean I made you dinner or dat we played table hockey or somethin’ like dat, cause—“

                Scott laughed and put a hand on his knee. “No, no! Nothing like that, of course! I meant with our powers. Mine connected with yours in this amazing new way…it made me stronger. _You_ made me stronger. For the first time since Jean…I feel okay.”

                He looked elated, relieved, like a weight had been lifted from his heart. Remy could sense it all, the euphoria, the new-found purpose and vigor. It should have pleased him to see his friend, once so lost, looking so happy.

                Instead it only made him wary.

                The auburn-haired southerner removed his hand gently and climbed out of bed, noting that Scott followed his every move with his eyes. Remy felt deeply self-conscious and aware of how he was reflected in that gaze. He had seen it too many times before. “Glad to hear it, homme. Wish I could remember it. Maybe we better go talk to de Professor about dis, oui?”

                Scott remained seated. “Don’t-don’t be afraid, Remy. I have control this time. Let me show you.”

                Gambit stood and watched, wide-eyed as the room around him shifted seamlessly, changing from a sparsely furnished bedroom to the sunny, bustling center of downtown Salem Center. For a moment, Remy thought that somehow Scott had transported them there.  But he was quick to pick up on the static movements of the people around them, their lack of substance. They were merely a projection of Scott’s mind. Yet it all felt and looked like the real thing.

                Cyclops lifted himself from the bed—which was now a park bench—and stood beside him. “What do you think?”

                But Gambit was speechless. “Dis…Scott dis is…how did you--?”

                “A little imagination goes a long way.” Cyclops chuckled. The world around them shifted again, back to Xavier’s. “And there’s more. So much more. I was so afraid of it before but now, the possibilities…for once I feel like I can really make a change. That I’m finally strong enough to lead this team the way it should be.”

                His eyes were too bright. His cheeks were pale and Remy noticed blood forming under his nose even before Scott registered it.

                “Scott sit down,”

                “No time for that, I’m—“ the dizziness hit him abruptly, like a brick and he was heading towards the floor. Remy caught him and eased him down. Things were fuzzy for a moment. His arms and legs had that awful pins and needles sensation of numbness. Gambit was calling his name as if from a distance and Scott tried to focus on it.

                At last his eyes focused and he blinked up at Remy’s face from his place on the floor. “Too much too soon, homme. Take it easy, breathe. I’ve got you.”

                He cleaned the blood from the man’s face and slowly helped him to sit up. “I’m glad you so ready to take these new powers for a test drive, but you have to take it slow and steady. I won’t always be dere to keep you from smashin’ yer head into the floor.”

                Scott seemed sad to hear this and leaned his head against Remy’s, sighing tiredly. They were so close, and Scott wanted so badly to lean in and close the gap between them and kiss him again. He remembered the way his lips felt against his, the taste of his mouth and his skin. He remembered the feel of muscle and bone, the sounds Remy made when he pushed inside him. He remembered it all.

                But Gambit leaned away, helping him to get to the edge of the bed once more. “Stay here. Rest a bit. No more magic tricks until you get some sleep. Got it?”

                “Where are you going?”

                “I need to be lookin’ in on Logan and Ro. Hope they’re alright.” He was already distracted with other thoughts, his attentions turned to his lovers. He didn’t see that shadow that passed over Scott’s face, the flicker of jealousy there.

                He was already at the door when Scott called out; “You’ll come back, won’t you?”

                Remy chuckled, shaking his head. “Oui, oui, you have my word as thief and a gentlemen, mon ami. But first, you sleep.  Au revoir.”

 

                He felt his heart rate begin to lower the more distance he put between himself and Cyclops, but the questions swirling in his head seemed to only gain more momentum as he walked. He recalled nothing of what Scott had spoken of. In fact he truly remembered nothing after being ushered away from Bobby after punching him in the mouth.

                That was distressing by itself, but the idea that something had _happened_ between he and his teammate, some sort of exchange of power, was even more unsettling to Remy. He guessing now that this was the source of his tiredness, even though he felt the persistent hum and buzz of his energy coursing through him in a way that he shouldn’t be aware of. This was to say nothing of Scott’s own strange behavior, which Remy was beginning to feel was evidence that his Charm was indeed affecting the man. He was glad Bobby, Hank or Storm weren’t around to rub it in his face.

                He was descending the main staircase towards the foyer when a familiar pair of arms reached out and caught him, drawing him into a surprise embrace.

                “Logan!”

                Wolverine hushed him by kissing him, holding him a bit tighter than before. Not that Remy complained. He felt relief just being in the other man’s embrace. Finally he pulled back for air, smiling with flushed lips.

                “Well, dat’s de kind of good morning kiss I could get used to.” He ran his hands over Logan’s cheeks, looking at him closely to see if any damage remained.

                “It’s alright, Cajun. Ye picked a man who take whatever kind of heat yer packin’.”

                “Suppose so…but I was afraid. I never meant to—“

                “Don’t apologize. You did what you had to.” He kissed him again. “I didn’t hurt ya did I?”

                Remy nuzzled him lovingly to assure him no harm had been done. He knew this was Logan deepest fear, one that he would likely carry forever. It took a lot of reassurance from both partners to remind him that he was more than the animal Creed and Weapon X had tried to fashion him to be.

                It was only then that Remy realized that his lover was wearing his motorcycle jacket, and that he had a duffle bag with him, dropped on the floor during their amorous embrace.

                “Going somewhere, mon couer?”

                Logan released him, picking up the bag again. “Yeah. For a little while. Xavier wants me and the Elf to look further into this terrorist cell that’s forming in town.”

                “Oh. Why don’t I come wit you? Had a run in with a few of deir groupies yesterday, might help wit yer investigation.” He smiled charmingly, toying with the back of Logan’s dark hair, “De idea of playin’ detective wit you is actually quite a turn on. We could have fun, non?”

                His lover shook his head firmly. “Sorry darlin’. Not this time.”

                “Come on, cher. You need a man like me on a job like dis. Dey’ll see you comin’ a mile away, and even with a holographic cloak to make Kurt look normal, he’s about as savvy as a brick. Let me help.”

                Logan shook him off with surprising coldness. “You heard me. Yer sittin’ this one out.”

                He started down the stairs, Remy trailing after him, confused. “Wait so…you’re just going to leave? Just like dat?”

                “Yep. I’ll be back in a few days. I want to sniff these fuckers out quick and get it over with.” Outside his truck was idling, with Kurt—appearing remarkably human with his holographic project—tossing his own bag into the back seat.

                “What about de lake house? What about yer powers? What about Ro and—“

                “Colossus is dealing with the house repair, yer welcome to lend a hand if it’ll keep ya busy. My powers are fine; Hank gave me a clean bill of health. Ro’s fine too, you should find her, talk to her and quit yer fussin’ with each other. We got bigger things to worry about than bruised egos.”

                It was all gruff and cold. But it was all an act. And Remy could feel it without even trying, though there were no cracks in Logan’s cool façade.

                “What are you tryin’ to keep me from, cher?”

                “Nothin’. ‘Scept maybe getting yer beautiful head beat in by some dumb bigot bastard.”

                Remy looked at him seriously, and Logan realized the charade was going nowhere. He sighed, “Darlin’, I can’t take ya with me. I got reasons, but I can’t tell ya now. I need you to trust me on this.” His voice was clear and sincere but Remy could sense his fear beneath it. He didn’t want to leave. But he had no choice. Why remained the only mystery.

                “Okay, cher. We do t’ings your way. For now.”

                Logan leaned up to kiss him again. “Stay sharp, darlin’. And if anythin’ gets out of hand here, you call me and I’ll come runnin’.”

                Remy nodded.

                “I love you.”

                “Je’taim aussi.”

                He watched the pair climb into the truck, giving them a half-hearted wave as the old blue pick-up rumbled off down the drive. As it left however, another car appeared at the gate. This one was considerably more high-end than Logan’s beat up truck, a bright red firebird convertible, vintage Remy guessed. It passed Logan’s truck and continued on towards the front doors while the Cajun looked on. He barely heard Hank appear beside him.

                “Remy, good morning!”

                He turned, startled from his gaze to look at the man beside him. Hank was dressed in one of his better suits, groomed and presentable, with his professor’s badge displayed proudly on his jacket.

                “What’s de occasion? Didn’t know we were expecting guests.” He glanced down at his own wrinkled attire of a ratty t-shirt and jeans and shrugged. “So much for good first impressions.”

                “It’s alright Remy, it’s just a speaker for the students in my advanced physics class. Why don’t you head inside and—“

                The car pulled up and the man at the wheel grinned broadly, eyes hidden behind his black aviator sunglasses. “Well, well…looks like we’re not the only special guests at the mansion, Brucey.”

                “Don’t call me that.” Dr. Banner chided tiredly, not having any idea what Tony was talking about.

                Gambit simply smirked, folding his arms. “Well, it’s eleven in de morning, and I find myself hung over and in a compromising position. Of course Tony Stark would be involved.”

                “How are you, LeBeau? You know, the ‘I woke up like this’ look works for you. That’s saying something, most people can’t pull it off.” Tony smoozed, moving around the hood of his car towards the pair of Mutants waiting for him on the steps. “Though I admit, I miss the cat suit.”

                Hank’s gold eyes flickered towards Remy. “You know each other?”

                “Yes. We keep meeting.” Remy answered, his expression still somewhere between amused and annoyed. “He keeps coming back ‘round, like one of dose annoying chain letters.”

                “You wound me, Mr. LeBeau.”

                “Your wallet perhaps, M’sieur Stark, but never your heart. And I’d like to keep it so.” He blew Tony a teasing kiss and turned around, heading into the house. Stark stared after him, watching the sway of his hips.

                Hank stepped over to the block the view, extending his hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. Right this way.”

 

***


	13. Chapter 13

 

***

 

                Beast lead Banner and Stark down the corridor at a quick and steady pace towards Xavier’s office. None of the three spoke much as they moved, both men taking in this rare opportunity to see inside the fortress that was the mutant institute and being all too aware that they mustn’t tip off why they were there.

                Once they were ushered inside the room, it was Tony that placed a small device on the door, that clicked and beeped and emitted a low frequency hum.

                “For privacy,” he replied in answer to the questioning faces that greeted him. “I assume you don’t want to be unexpectedly interrupted, or overheard.”

                “Indeed,” Xavier, still looking worse for wear replied. Beside him was Bobby Drake, who regarded the pair of Avengers with a mix of apprehension and respect. “Thank you again for coming so quickly. Time is very much of the essence.”

                “So you said,” Bruce, who was a smaller, slightly older man, with wavy dark hair and glasses quite similar to Hank’s spoke up, “But you haven’t exactly been clear on what it is we are dealing with. Without details, I’m afraid we’ve only come with the basic necessities. I hope it will be enough until we can get further clarification.”

                “Yes. You understand why I couldn’t divulge details earlier of course.”

                “You’re having a problem with one of your students, that it?” Tony said, flopping down in an expensive arm chair, running his hands over the fabric as he inspected it. Stark was full of nervous energy, never quite able to be still. He was always moving in some way, always fidgeting. “Whatever happened to good old detention? Then again, I guess, what would detention be like at school for Mutants?”

                “It isn’t a student,” Bobby replied. “It’s one our team members. Cyclops. He’s been…compromised.”

                “Compromised how?”

                “He may or may not be possessed by a cosmic alien firebird from space.”

                Tony laughed, a little too loudly and when no one joined him, he looked around. “Wait, you’re kidding right.”

                “I’m afraid not.” Hank answered. “The ‘alien’ Bobby is referring to is a celestial being known as The Phoenix. The force claims to be the bringer of new life and creation to the universe. It has even suggested that it’s influence is directly responsible for the evolution of life forms…including possibly…Mutants.”

                “Space bird with a God complex. Not impressed. What else ya got?”

                “Maybe we should have brought Thor along on this one,” Bruce pondered.

                “It doesn’t seem to have any relation to Asgard. Believe me, I checked.” Beast answered quickly.

                “So what do you want us to do? Preform an exorcism?”

                “In a manner of speaking, yes. The Phoenix chooses a host, that is how it’s able to communitcate and interact with life forms. When it first arrived here, it chose Jean Grey as it’s host. But the Phoenix became corrupted when it’s mind melded with Jean’s. It drove her insane and ultimately it caused her death.”

                Bruce and Tony looked at each other silently. “You wouldn’t be referring to the strange phenomena that occurred last month. The freak storms, the unstable temperatures that followed the meteor that struck your school. All this was the result of the Phoenix?”

                Bobby and Hank shifted. “You’ve been spying on us.” Bobby muttered.

                “I wouldn’t call it spying,” Tony replied. “It’s more like active observation. And it wasn’t us. Believe it or not, we have lives and you know, our own problems to deal with. We were notified by SHIELD. They’re the ones who are, for lack of a better term, cyber stalking you.”

                “We know SHEILD’s reputation well. Which is why we called you directly. Now can you help us, or not?”

                Bruce sighed heavily, thoughtfully drumming his fingers along the top of his briefcase before nodding and laying the item down on his lap, which he opened. “Tell me more. What powers does the host possess?  Cyclops, if I recall…the eye guy…optic heat lazors, correct?”

                “Yeah, but he’s upped his game since then. He’s telekinetic, telepathic, he can fly. All shit he couldn’t do before.” Bobby answered.

                “I have something for starters,” Bruce replied, pulling out several small square discs that looked a bit like computer parts. “We were developing these for Coulson and Fury for awhile. They attach behind your ear—it’s relatively painless—and act as a firewall of sorts for telepathic interference.”

                Hank took one and examined it curiously. “Fascinating.”

                “Eh, just a little something we whipped up on the fly, no biggie.” Tony shrugged coyly.

                “Yeah, if you call eight months of work ‘on the fly’, sure.” Bruce retorted. He handed one to Bobby. “May I?”

                Drake looked nervous. “I dunno man…will it hurt?”

                “It may pinch for a moment.”

                Reluctantly, Bobby allowed Bruce to place the chip just behind his ear. It felt cold against his skin, and as promised, he felt a hot pinch that sent a zing through his head. “Ahh!! You said it wouldn’t hurt!” he yelped.

                “Sorry. I suppose I have a higher pain tolerance,” Bruce amended. He checked the chip again and then nodded to Xavier, “Give it a try, Professor.”

                The old man shifted his focus to Bobby, clearly concentrating. It was apparent after a few seconds that he wasn’t making progress. “Impressive. A rather clever little disruptor. All too easily destroyed if the source is discovered, however.”

                “Well that’s a given. I’m supposing none of you will be up close and personal with this guy.”

                Bobby blushed faintly, but no one saw it.

                “This might buy us some time, but we need a solution to the problem.” Hank noted, still admiring the chip, which he affixed behind his own ear with a faint wince. “It’s a nonnegotiable that Scott remain alive and as unharmed as possible.”

                “We can’t offer you much just yet. The best we can do now is a sort of shockwave device that we developed in the wake of Loki’s possession of some of our friends. I don’t know if it will be strong enough for this Phoenix thing though.”

                “Is the Phoenix a threat without a host body to conduct its powers?”

                “If it regains enough energy, yes.” Xavier answered.

                “Then we need containment.”

                “Good luck with that.”

                Tony smirked at him, “Smart guys like us don’t need luck. Give us a few days, we’ll have something for you.”

 

***

 

                 A shower, a breakfast burrito and two cups of coffee later, Remy had gotten a second wind. Things were screwier around the mansion than usual, which seemed even more obvious now that everyone was pretending it wasn’t.

                Scott had not made a reappearance, and Gambit felt relieved in this. He hoped the man was getting some sleep, or at the least taking a little bit of time to get his head on straight. Remy still didn’t know if his claim that their powers had discovered a new way of interacting was true or not. Either way, the idea felt unsavory. Mutant abilities were unique, one was not necessarily supposed to strengthen or weaken another’s. They weren’t fucking Pokémon after all.

                The Cajun had escaped to the roof, overlooking the front lawn of the house, where he could get a better perspective of things, literally and metaphorically. Armed with binoculars, his phone, and snack provisions, he settled in for a good ol’ fashioned stakeout.

                Stark’s firebird remained exactly where it had been left earlier that morning, which meant that the Avengers were still inside. Hank’s story that they were there to give a science presentation wasn’t completely preposterous…just unlikely.

                Looking further out onto the lawn, he could see the damaged remains of the lake house, and the people who were working on it so diligently. It was difficult to miss the sheen of the sun off Piotr’s metallic figure as he worked.

                Further still, he could make out the gate and searched along the tree line, just to be sure that Stark and Banner had in fact come alone. Somehow, Remy doubted it. They were on too short a leash with SHIELD these days. But there was no sign of disturbance.

                He took a drink from the water bottle he had dragged with him and frowned thoughtfully, thinking back on Logan’s abrupt exit. Remy was sure it hadn’t been the Feral’s idea to up and leave base just to go snoop around town for more thugs with anti-mutant chips on their shoulders. The secrecy was not his idea either. And Wolverine didn’t take orders from just anyone. Xavier must want him out of the way for a reason. It couldn’t have been because of last night. Charles wouldn’t send Logan out among (mostly) defenseless people if he thought he might lose control and go feral again.

                And speaking of lost control…

                Remy dug around in his pocket, finding a new pack of cards. He pulled out a fresh deck, taking the top card and turned it over in his fingers. It collected a charge quickly; too quickly. Without even focusing, it began to glow and levitate, becoming brighter and brighter until he flung it away as it exploded violently, showering him with sparks and nearly knocking him off balance.

                “Merde!” he cursed, breathing hard. His hand was still glowing, still tingling with energy. This was not good, not safe. He hadn’t felt this overwhelmed by his abilities in years. He looked down again at the cherry red car parked on the drive below.

                Something wasn’t right. He frowned, scratching the back of his neck, feeling the faint dampness there as the sun bore down on him. He stood, stretching and glancing around to make sure no one had seen him. It seemed like a good time to put some of his old skills to use.

                He slithered down the outside of the house, as quick and nimble a cat, and made his way to the car. No one noticed him as he sauntered around it, slipping into the driver’s seat and casually searching through the glove box. Nothing of interest, passports, insurance cards, a couple of electronic do-dads, box of condoms…

                Remy chuckled, “Oh Tony, you haven’t changed a bit.”

                He made a quick search under the seats and the dash board, where he found a gun and an emergency kit. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. In short order he found the hatch for the trunk and made his way around.

                Again, nothing too extraordinary. But Remy knew better than to trust what was on the surface. It took very little prodding to discover a hidden compartment below the trunk. He managed to pop the latch easily and peered inside.

                His eyes widened, seeing several weapons there, none of which seemed like they belonged to the Iron Man suit. Remy lifted a small gun and examined it, realizing it was a tranquilizer gun. There were enough cartridges in the cases to take down a dozen or more people. Frowning, he closed the trunk, stun gun still in hand and marched back inside.

                He found his way to the lab doors and discovered them locked. He pounded his fist against the thick metal frame. “Hank! Open up! It’s important!”

                The intercom next to the door suddenly crackled to life, and Remy looked up at the security camera positioned in the corner of the ceiling looking down at him. “I’m sorry Remy, now’s not the best time.” Hank answered.

                LeBeau frowned and held the stun gun up for him to see in the camera. “I think you’ll find there’s no time like de present.”

                There was a brief pause from the other side and then he heard the heavy tumblers turn over in the door as they slid open. He was immediately greeted by the large blue wall that was Hank McCoy, who tried to keep him from setting more than a few steps into the room.

                “What is that--?”

                Remy ducked under his arm, finding Stark and Banner busy constructing something on one of the large counter surfaces towards the center of the room, holographic schematics and equations, pieces and codes hovering in the air around them, projected from a small device next to Tony’s arm.

                “Hey,” the bearded Avenger called out, pointing to the object in Remy’s hand. “How’d you get that? Did you bust into my car? Wait, what am I saying, of course you did.”

                “I’ve bust into harder places,” Gambit muttered, tossing the gun on the table. “Care to tell me and my friend why it is you came here armed?”

                Hank looked as troubled at the development as Gambit did, turning his gaze to his fellow scientists. “I thought we had an accord, gentlemen.”

                “Don’t read too much into it,” Bruce said, leaving his stool to move closer to them. “The stun guns weren’t our idea. It’s SHIELD directive to come prepared for any situation. All of us are equipped with these any time we go anywhere.”

                Gambit eyed the smaller man intensely. “You’re not a very good liar, Mr. Banner.”

                Bruce sighed helplessly and turned to Tony, who had turned off the projection and stepped away from the work, coming to stand next to his colleague. “Let’s not get jumpy here, okay? We’re not lying…SHEILD is pretty tough on being ‘adequately’ prepared when dealing with…”

                “Mutants.” Remy muttered. “How typical.”

                “Look sweetheart, it’s not personal. That stuff was going to remain in the trunk where it belonged, covered up and forgotten about. _You’re_ the one who dragged it in here.”

                Remy continued to scowl, but turned his eyes from Stark to the new construction that was being created on the table behind him. It too, looked much too weapon-like for his comfort. “And what’s dis little toy you workin’ on?”

                Tony laughed and shook his head, looking to McCoy now. “Hey, should he even be in here?”

                “Remy,” Beast’s voice was at his ear, a hand on his shoulder. “I understand your concern, but please…”

                LeBeau turned and looked at him accusingly. “What are you helping dem build Hank? Why are dey here, really? Cause if dis is a science lecture…” he looked around at the otherwise empty room, “you have a pretty piss-poor turn out.”

                Hank led him away from Tony and Bruce, though Gambit was not eager to follow.

                “What’s gotten you so upset?” McCoy asked.

                “Logan just got shipped out of here, said he couldn’t tell me why. No sooner does he leave den dese jokers show up with some phony cover story.  Meanwhile no one seems to got any answers as to what happened last night and t’ings just seem to keep spirallin’ down de rabbit hole.” He took a moment to catch his breath, not really sure why he felt so emotional.

                “Desole,” he mumbled after a moment. “Suppose I’m feelin’ a bit spooked…and not quite myself.”

                “It’s fine,” Hank assured, standing closer now, hand on his shoulder, which then moved to Remy’s cheek, thick thumb brushing over his cheek bone. LeBeau blinked at the contact as it was a bit more intimate than he was used to with McCoy, though it wasn’t unpleasant. “You needn’t be concerned. I would never let anything into this school that I thought could harm us. There’s far too much here that I value…that I love.”

                It was a sweet sentiment, but Remy felt it odd. He put his hand against McCoy’s and tried to remove it from his face, noting that the larger man was looking at him with an intensity that was somewhat overwhelming.

                “No need to wax poetic,” he replied, smiling almost nervously. “I should know better. Sorry to barge in.”

                He turned to leave, but Hank followed him, even as he stepped out of the door of the lab and into the hall again. He turned, “Don’t you have work to finish?”

                “It’s not important.”

                “Really?” Remy laughed, “it seemed like it was a moment ago.”

                Hank continued to stare at him with those intense gold eyes and Remy could feel it now, the wave of longing and lust that was coming from him. His heart skipped a beat in his chest and he paled.

                “Remy, I need to—“

                “Shh, no Hank, don’t say anythin’. _Please_ ,” he began, trying to step away. “I’m…my Charm is getting’ to you. What you’re feelin’ ain’t real, it’s just an illusion.”

                “But it isn’t! I swear it isn’t,” the Doctor insisted. “I wanted to tell you yesterday, when I pulled you out of the water. You must have felt it.” He kept trying to move closer to the tall southerner, reaching and trying to pluck him in close.

                “Hank,” he said sternly, “dis isn’t you talkin’. Dis is…oh dammit, I’m sorry! I’ve got to go. You’ll thank me later!”

                He turned and tried to stride away, nearly breaking into a run but refusing to panic. He cursed himself for his sudden lack of control. He needed to escape and regroup, away from his friends and the students, before things got out of hand.

                But he heard heavy steps moving behind him, swift in their pursuit. He looked over his shoulder, sure he was about to see McCoy pounce on him, but the hall behind him was empty. He blinked in confusion, then sensed movement _above_ him.

                Glancing up, he saw that the large blue feral, with his all too agile feet, had leapt up to the rafters above his head, only to come down directly behind him. “You know the chase just makes these things more thrilling, right?” he purred.

                Remy tried to throw a punch, hoping it would snap the man out of the spell he’d unintendedly put him under. But Beast caught his fist easily, and grappled him back, pinning him against the wall with arms on either side of him, blocking his escape.

                “Hank stop!” Remy bellowed, red and black eyes wide with fear, his hands pushed hard against Hank’s broad chest.

                McCoy obeyed, looking at him intently, searching his face.

                “You don’t want to do dis…please, please don’t do dis…” he pleaded, panting and finding that it wasn’t only his voice that shook.

                Beast could smell his fear, he had no doubt. His cat-like eyes softened and appeared more focused and Human as he leaned in a bit further, nuzzling Remy and moving one of his hands from the wall to his cheek again, pushing his hair behind his ear.

                The pair stood still, neither making a move. Remy’s heart was still pounding in his ears, breathing a little too fast and shallow in his fear. He didn’t know if he could fight McCoy off if things went bad. Not because he wasn’t strong, but because if tried to use his powers he could possibly _kill_ him and that idea was even more dreadful than one facing him now.

                But though Beast made no move to release him, he didn’t try to further his advances either. He just stood there, pressed against him, making this soft sad noise deep in his throat. Remy could feel the intensity of his body heat, the same as he had the other night when Hank tried to keep him from slipping into shock. He liked that feeling, more than he really wanted to let on.

                He could still feel the current of Hank’s lust as well, the intense desire that had overwhelmed him thanks to his Charm. Ferals were always the most affected by it, it seemed to have double the potency. But the evidence of his arousal and affection wasn’t just empathic, but blatantly physical as Remy could feel the man’s hard erection brushing against his thigh.

                He shivered and pressed himself harder against the wall, wishing he had Shadow Cat’s ability to vanish into it. He tried to calm himself, to focus, to reign it in and free Hank from his influence. “Dis isn’t you,” he pressed, “You’d never do dis. Not to me or anyone. I know you, Hank, you’re such a good person and I love you for dat…I know dis isn’t your fault. Fight through it, I know you can.”

                McCoy nuzzled him and kissed the corner of his mouth, pushing a little firmer against him, which made Remy whimper in response, fearing he was losing the fight.

                “Never hurt you,” Hank muttered, voice guttural and gruff the way that Logan’s often was when he was lost in the heat of things. “I would…Remy, I would never—“ he pulled back then, pushing himself away from Gambit and taking several large steps back, gripping the opposite wall of the hall.

                He shook his large shaggy head and scratched his claws across his face angrily, gritting his teeth. “Go…go, please! Go now!”

                “Henri,”

                “GO!”

                Gambit took off at a run, leaving Beast where he was. The man bellowed in frustration and anguish after him, clawing the wall and falling to his knees as he sought to collect himself, becoming more aware every second of what he had almost confessed, of what he had almost done to ruin it all.

                From down the hall, lurking just out of sight, Scott had watched the whole exchange in silence. He could feel fire burning through him, his palms and fingers seemed to glow and pulse with it, as he had been all too ready to attack McCoy if he had taken his advances any further. But it seemed his intervention was no longer needed. In fact, odd as it was, the situation seemed to have worked itself out to his benefit.

                Focusing, he could see where Remy was headed, seeing the panicked Mutant in his mind’s eye. He would follow him, make sure that he didn’t get himself into any further trouble.

 

Remy ran and didn’t stop running until he was out onto the grounds. His exit made his returning team mates look up as he passed, Storm was among them.

                “Gambit?” Colossus called out to him, curious as to where he was going in such a hurry looking so distressed.

But the Cajun ignored them, sprinting off towards the woods.

                “Is he alright?” Kitty wondered aloud.

 

 

                On the front lawn, just beyond the garden wall, Ororo was sitting on the soft warm grass doing her best to mediate and collect herself. If the stillness in the air was any indication, she was slowly and steadily regaining control over her volatile abilities, and with them, her chaotic emotions.

                After her talk with Logan and Hank that morning, she knew that now was the time to put her pride aside and make amends with Remy. They were going to need each other to see this mess through, and they were always stronger together. Perhaps cooperatively, they could succeed in helping Scott conquer his inner demons and escape the fate that Jean had so unfairly succumb to.  She knew that deep down, with all her insecurities set aside, that was what she wanted more than anything.

                She heard the cry go up from Colossus then and looked up, her peace broken. From a distance, she saw Remy’s lithe dash across the lawn at a reckless pace, almost as if he were trying to escape something.

                She got hurriedly to her feet and started off after him, first at a run and then allowed herself to be carried into the air, letting the current she created carry her swifter than her feet could.

                “Remy! Remy wait! What’s wrong!?”

                Still LeBeau ignored her, darting to the trees and forcing her to the ground to continue her pursuit. Unlucky for Gambit, she was nearly as fast on her feet as he was.

                “Remy!”

                “Stay back!” he shouted, tossing a handful of charged dirt to the side, which exploded with a soft pop and bang, throwing chunks of soft earth and twigs in her direction. Storm deflected them easily, blowing them aside with a burst of wind.

                “Where are you going!?”

                “Away from here! I’m not safe! Go back to de house! GO!”

                “I can help!”

                “LEAVE ME ALONE!” he bellowed, exploding another clod of dirt, this one creating a crater in the ground behind him, cutting off her direct root. It was nothing for her to simply fly over it, but the now uprooted sapling trees toppled towards her, forcing her back.

                He stopped just for a moment at the top of the hill, looking back to make sure she was alright before vanishing through another thicket.

                Ororo stood, dirt dusted and panting, not understanding what happened. She wanted to run after him, but feared doing so would only provoke him more. Gambit must be in a great deal of distress to use his powers like this. It all seemed so erratic, not at all like his usual style.

                Kitty and Colossus came trotting up the trail behind her.

                “Storm! Are you alright?” the large man called anxiously.

                “Fine,” she replied, turning and making her way back to them.

                “Where’s Gambit?”

                “I don’t know. But we’d better get inside and talk to the others.”

                The group rushed inside the mansion, Ororo quickly breaking off with orders for the others to find Xavier and let him know the situation, while she sought out answers elsewhere. She felt her pulse rising as she walked, but she did her best to master it, to keep herself in the moment and not let the fluttering anxiety in her brain take over, or the fear suck her further into its vortex.

                As she came around the corner, she startled and cried out, shocked to find Beast there on the floor, panting and groaning, claw marks etched into the wall.

                “Hank!”

                She started towards her, but he waved her off, seeming to shake. “No, Ro, don’t come closer…I’m not…myself.”

                Looking at him in concern, she could see his eyes were dark and dilated, the gold hard to see and that he was flushed and breathing heavily, all while he tried to cover himself.

                “What happened?”

                McCoy growled low, shaking his head, still trying to clear it, pushing himself away from her as if he were afraid to be touched. The real fear was that in his heightened, chaotic state of animalistic arousal that he might spring on her. Luckily, he still held fast to his higher senses and principles that kept him tightly in check, even if his body was screaming otherwise.

                “Charm influence…” he managed to mumble. “Couldn’t help myself…he ran, thank God…”

                Ororo realized now why Remy had been so desperate to flee, and so adamant about keeping her at bay.

                She moved closer to him tentatively, despite the frightened, wounded hiss he made in response and put her hands on his shaking muscles. “Come with me, I’ll take care of you.” She promised.

                He resisted, but she didn’t back away. She didn’t even look frightened by the idea that the man could pounce on her at any moment should he choose to give into the lingering remnants of the spell.

                McCoy looked at her with worry but she pulled him up and helped move him someplace close and quiet, where they wouldn’t be bothered. There were hundreds of rooms in the mansion, some secret and some not.

                Storm knew of one close to the lab that was all but invisible to anyone who didn’t know it was already there, as it blended almost seamlessly into the wall. But once she pressed on the panel, it opened before them easily and they stepped into the darkness together.

                The room wasn’t very large, and was currently being used as storage space, filled with boxes of books and supplies and unused desks and chairs.

                The woman had just closed the door behind them when she felt Hank wrap his arms around her aggressively, holding her tight and pressing fast against her, breathing hard. She hissed, afraid for a moment that he would revert completely and attack. She could feel how hot he was, sweating and shaking and hard against her.  But he made no further advancement than this and just moaned piteously.

                “It should have worn off by now…” he muttered, sounding miserable. “Why can’t I--?”

                “Shh.”

                She turned around and pulled him in more carefully, stroking his face and kissing his cheek and lips, moving to his neck and making him moan.

                “Ro, we shouldn’t, I don’t know if I can hold back…”

                “You held back with him, I trust you with me. Let me help you.”

                She guided him through the darkened room back towards a desk, which he sat on the edge of while she kissed him and let him hold her, running his big thick hands across her back and over her hips, fingers straining to reach more, but afraid to give in without her permission.

                She pulled him out of his lab coat and unbuttoned his shirt and made her way to his pants, teasing him lightly and making him nearly scream in response he had become so oversensitive.

                “Is it too much?”

                “No just…please,”

                She kissed him again and to his surprise, moved to kneel between his legs. McCoy’s eyes widened, looking down at her.

                “Ro, you don’t have to—“

                “Shh.”

                She smiled at him in that mischievous way that told him that all he needed to do was sit back and hold on for the ride. Whimpering, he gripped the sides of the desk as she pulled him free from his clothing and started to stroke and lick him lightly.

                Hank groaned again, nearly doubling over. It had been such a long time since anyone had done this for him and with his feral senses heightened and distorted the way they were, it was all the more intense.

                She took her time, trying not to overwhelm him or force it to end too quickly. That wouldn’t satisfy either of them. And if she set her pace slowly, he would have time to collect himself and enjoy the moment fully.

                Hank shivered and groaned softly, claws scratching the desk top as he struggled to hold back. It was getting easier, even if the sensations she was creating against his skin were driving him quickly towards the edge, no matter how soft or slow she tried to be.

                He tentatively moved a hand from the desk to the back of her head, playing with her hair but not pulling or forcing her down further, even when he felt her mouth take him in further. He dropped his hand to her shoulder and neck, trying to keep a grip and his nails scratched her lightly, making her gasp and pull back.

                He looked panicked for a moment, so she moved to stand, laying against him, keeping her hand circled tight around his cock and squeezed, picking up the pace and she laid her head against his shoulder.

                “It’s alright,” she assured him, feeling his thighs shaking. “I want to see you undone.”

                He gripped her hard with another growl, turned and kissed her bruising and just a few seconds later she felt him erupt in her hand, gasping hard against her lips as the release knocked the breath out of him.

                She braced him and stroked his thick hair, letting him rest his head on her shoulder, still clinging to her hard as he rode out the remaining tremors.

                She cleaned her hand on his coat and settled back onto the desk with him while they both attempted to catch their breath. At least five minutes past before McCoy could properly speak again.

                “Thank you,”

                “Are you alright now?” she asked.

                He nodded, though there was shame in his eyes. “I’ve never…been that overwhelmed.”

                “It’s over now though, you’re alright.”

                He reached down to tuck himself back into his slacks, feeling ever more aware of his actions and knowing that as much as they had shocked him, he did not loathe them entirely. And that only sought to cloud and conflict his mind more so.

                “Can you forgive me?” he looked at her shoulder and saw the scratch marks there under the strap of her tank top.

                She kissed his fingers, “There’s nothing to forgive, Hank. I wanted to help you, I wanted to touch you. I care about you. I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

                He nodded, though he hadn’t thought she still felt that way about him. He sat up then, though he felt oddly drained and exhausted after the experience. “I need to find Remy and explain—“

                “I don’t think that’s a good idea, unless we want a repeat performance. Give it a little time, collect yourself. He’s on the grounds somewhere, I’ll take Piotr and find him.”

                Hank nodded slowly, as this seemed the best course of action for now. If he approached Remy again while his influence was still out of control, he could very well lose the fight over his animal urges and do something he feared he’d live to regret forever.

                She scratched behind his ear and down his back, continuing to comfort him and he chuckled, “I suppose I should no by now that you’re not a woman who needs rescuing, not even form the likes of me.” He nuzzled her. “I’m glad one of us is back to normal.”

                She nodded, “Normal’s overrated Hank. But there’s still a line that I don’t desire to cross.”

                They moved towards the door again, Hank pausing to observe the room as if for the first time. “I had forgotten this was here. How did you recall it so quickly?”

                “Jean and I used to hide in here, back in the old days, when we wanted a break from you and the boys.” She winked. “I don’t think anything in here has been touched since those days.”

                “Yes. Let’s escape this dusty tomb shall we?”

                Slipping back out into the bright corridor, glad of the light and fresh air, the pair found themselves far from alone.

                Tony Stark, Bobby and Xavier were all there, just as surprised to see them as they were.

                “There you are!”

                “Hey,” Bobby said, moving forward to examine the door with renewed curiosity. “No one told me there were secret passages down here too!”

                “Hank, are you alright?” Charles asked.

                “I am now,” McCoy answered, “But things are getting out of hand quickly. Apparently Gambit is still experience some destabilization in his powers—“

                “—Scott’s gone.” Bobby said abruptly, making Hank and Storm stare at him.

                “What?”

                “I looked for him, he’s not in his room, he’s not anywhere in the house.”

                “I can’t sense him on the grounds either.” Xavier added. “But what is it you said about Gambit’s powers destabilizing?”

                The group looked at each other in silent dread, knowing this was a recipe for utter disaster.

                Tony sighed, “I’ll get my suit.”

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys if you're enjoying my X-Men stuff and you wanna see more you can find me over on tumblr at hectorspearl.tumblr.com ! Come on over and say hi! :D


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Hello friends! I apologize for the long wait for updates, I'm battling some pretty serious health issues right now that have made it difficult, but I'm trying to power through! Thanks for reading as always, and keep an eye out for updates and check me out on tumblr (hectorspearl.tumblr.com) for more X-Men goodies and other news!

 

***

 

                Hours went by, but there was no sign of either of the missing Mutants. Ororo, Bobby and Piotr explored the wide country roads that flanked either side of the Westchester school, checking the dappled gas stations, convenient stores and other few outlets that lay in between the miles of woods and lake land that lay between them and downtown Salem Center.

                Charles remained in contact with them, but felt somewhat helpless. Of all his students and staff, these two had become the most unreachable with his influence. He could sense of course, that both were alive and was able in a small degree to detect their conscious states. Or at least Gambit’s, which was heightened and distressed. But Scott was so distant, so cut off from him in this new form. No attempt Charles made could penetrate the psychic wall he had built around himself.

 

 

                Whatever his powers, whatever his alignment in this strange war on Mutants, Gambit was a Thief first and foremost. He knew how to hide himself, to disappear and stay that way for as long as necessary.

                Westchester was a largely rural area, and there remained a good deal of space to spread out, even as he came closer to the university area. There was a fair amount of new construction happening there, town houses going up in droves next to new shopping centers and schools.

                Remy had escaped to the construction site, which was empty of workers for the day. He’d found his way into a largely finished home, and had taken refuge in one of the empty, unpainted rooms upstairs, pacing back and forth across the floor, trying to calm and center himself.

                It wasn’t working. No matter how much he reminded himself that he was alone, that no one was here to be exposed to his powers, he couldn’t shake the feeling of panic and paranoia.

                He kept seeing Hank looming over him, hearing his voice, feeling his heat. His mind filling in the gaps of what could have happened between them if McCoy had not been able to resist as much as he had. It terrified Gambit but at the same time, part of him wanted to know more.

                No matter how angry he was at Hank’s behavior these days, he found it impossible to believe McCoy would ever put him in real danger. Hank simply had no maliciousness in him, no desire to do harm. Even when facing their enemies in battle, Remy had never seen McCoy willingly inflict more damage than he had to.  And that knowledge gave way to another pressing question; the very real feelings of love and desire he’d felt from him.

                Gambit knew his Charm had the ability to manufacture those feelings in others; that the feelings were false and unrooted in real love or affection. If Hank were Human, the distinction would have been much easier, but being feral…

                Angrily he dropped down into a crouch on the floor, grabbing his head and shouting his frustration into the musty emptiness of the room.

                The accusations, the questioning of his ability to maintain any sort of relationship free of influence from his Charm, suddenly seemed far more grounded in reality than Remy realized and he wondered if his friends hadn’t been justified in their fears. Maybe, no matter what Remy intended, his Charm would always make it impossible for him to be anything more than an object of lust to others. Maybe he couldn’t have friendships; only bed partners. Maybe, if he were ever stricken of all his power, he would look around and realize…he was nothing without it.

                It was an awful, empty sort of feeling. But not one he was a stranger to. The image of Essex was bright in his mind then. He could all but hear the man whispering in his ear, gloating about how he had been right and that Remy never should have left and that all this had been inevitable.

                But it was that thought precisely that made Remy angry enough to reject that feeling. His Charm didn’t dictate his life or his worth. Anyone who said otherwise would find themselves on the wrong end of his other abilities.

                He pulled himself up, feeling his confused frustration turn to disgust and fury. The feeling bubbled over and took hold, manifesting in bright angry sparks of magenta that crackled and forked from his finger tips. Balling his fists, he slammed them into the wall, letting them crack through the brittle plaster and dry wall before erupting further, causing most of the wall to blow out entirely, exposing the wiring and piping between.

                Remy pulled back for only a moment before striking again, this time attacking the pipes, which burst until the assault. Luckily the water hadn’t been turned on.

                Again and again he attacked, releasing larger and larger bursts of energy each time. The destruction felt good; cathartic even. And the more he used, the more he felt it building, as if it were somehow making him stronger.

                Within moments the room itself was little more than dusty shell of support beams, melted pipe and broken brick. But Remy was glowing, filled with humming, pulsing energy. He looked at his hands and his arms, seeing his veins stand out bright hot pink and purple against his skin. The effect traveled all the way up into his chest and neck, and he could feel the heat of it in his cheeks.

                Standing there in the dust and debris, he tried to make sense of it, licking his lips nervously.

                “You don’t have to be afraid of it.”

                The red-eyed man looked up in surprising, finding Scott standing in the remains of the doorway, watching him. Remy was uncertain how long the man had been there, or how much he had seen. Either way, he was exposed.

                “Maybe you aren’t seein’ what I am den.” He answered dryly. He flexed his fingers, as if trying to dispel the light from them, but it remained unchanged.  

                “Actually, I think I see it better than even you do.” Summers answered, moving towards him. Remy took an instinctive step backward. But Scott remained undaunted, coming to stand before him. He held out his hand for the other to take, but Gambit shook his head.

                “Non, I might--”

                “You won’t.” Scott said calmly. “See for yourself.”

                He looked back at him with reserve, fingers nervously fidgeting behind his back before cautiously extending a hand towards him. Scott remained still, waiting for Remy to touch him before coiling his fingers around him. Instinctively LeBeau tried to pull free in a knee-jerk moment of fear, but Scott remained still, holding on without reserve, and though the glow remained, it’s combustive abilities seemed suspended. Remy was stunned.

                “It’s _your_ power, Remy. An extension of your will, your soul. People want you to believe it’s the other way around, but that’s just their way of taking that control away from you. Don’t believe them, don’t let them make you feel uncertain.”  He smiled at him, rubbing his thumbs across the bright colored veins, feeling the heat there.

                Gambit caught his gaze, searching his eyes. “Pretty words, but don’t make dem true. Dis is bigger than me, it always was. You’d best not be here. Can’t promise you’ll be safe.”

                “You won’t let that happen.” There was no lack of sincerity in his words, and Remy could see in his eyes that he was utterly unafraid of the consequences, having complete faith that his teammate would not let his power overwhelm him. It was a faith far too few had ever offered before.

                Setting his jaw, LeBeau tried to focus, trying to will his body to reabsorb the energy before it could cause further damage. But Scott was standing so close, the same way Hank had. Remy’s focus wavered, diverted by the fear that Summers would become overwhelmed by his Charm in the process.

                Sparks crackled across his fingers, transferring from his skin to Scott’s in small bright bursts. The illuminated veins crept further up his neck and across his chest, bringing pressure and pain with them that made Remy sweat and grit his teeth. He felt like he was going to burst.

                The tension broke. Not with a bang or a pop, but soundlessly and swiftly, like a knot suddenly coming undone. The bright surge of color beneath his skin faded, taking with it the heat and electricity. His skin cooled and the pressure inside him gave way.

                Gambit stood there panting, vision blotted and blurred, but Scott steadied him and he didn’t fall. Scott chuckled warmly and put an arm around his back, laying his head along side his. “Still with me?”

                He nodded slowly and stepped back, looking stunned. “I’ve never…never…not when it was that…” the confusion gave way to relief and Remy laughed. “I could have killed us both just now!”

                “But you didn’t.” Cyclops answered with a shrug.

                The whole situation was so absurd, so confusing and strange but so starkly different from the reaction he was expecting that Gambit dissolved into helpless peals of laughter.

                Scott smiled and found himself laughing too, infected by the euphoric relief coming from the other man who was practically reduced to tears from it. They both stood there in the broken room, gasping and shrieking with laughter until they were winded and aching with it.

                Eventually the pair collected themselves, breathing hard, and made their way out of the construction, out into the wide grassy field that cut behind the new housing developments. A ways beyond that, they could make out Salem Center and the lights and buildings there as the daylight around them began to soften as afternoon waned on.

                Neither of them spoke for a moment, watching the summer breeze ripple across the long grass, making it shimmer like waves. They could hear distant traffic from the back roads, the sound of birds and insects chirping in the warm air. The world felt still.

                “How’d you know where to find me?” Remy asked finally, arms folded around himself as he stared ahead at the landscape.

                Scott nodded slowly. “I sensed when you left the mansion. You were upset. What happened?”

                “You know what happened.” Remy answered. “I lost control. Seems you not de only one havin’ trouble wit your mutation now.” He sighed, “T’ings starting to make less and less sense all de sudden. Logan being shipped off, Storm and Bobby and now Hank…” he shifted nervously, thinking again of McCoy pressed against him. It sent a confused thrill through his chest.

                Cyclops sensed this and frowned. “Forget about that place,” he suggested “We don’t need to go back right now.”

                “Can’t stay out here forever.” He looked back at the house, cringing slightly when he thought about the damage he’d caused. “Sometimes I understand why it is people are so afraid of us. The whole world’s got a front row seat to every mistake we make. When we have bad days, ain’t just us that suffer for it.”

                “Then let’s go where the world can’t see.”

                Remy blinked, confused. “Wha--?”

                In a flash the field and the empty rows of houses vanished, replaced seamlessly with something far more wild and overgrown. Instead of the grassy field, they were now standing on a pier, in front of a vast lake, surrounded on either side by huge pines and snow capped mountains. Wild flowers were in bloom everywhere, and the air had that kind of clean, cool crispness to it that you only imagined you felt when seeing breath mint commercials.

                Remy remained perfectly still, not entirely sure what was happening.

                “Do you like it?” Summers asked, looking at ease. He moved to the edge of the pier and sat down, letting his legs dangle over the clear blue water below. The world around them was empty of the sound of humans and civilization and even the sounds of nature were dim and faded, leading Remy to conclude that this was not reality.

                “Where are we?”

                “Anchorage, Alaska. Or, how it looked when I was a boy.” He answered. “I was born here.”

                The Cajun looked around again with a renewed sense of awe. “You were born in the middle of all dis?”

                “My dad was an army pilot. He traveled a lot. Alex and I were born here though, and this is where we spent most of our time. Especially the in the summer, away from the city itself.”

                “It’s beautiful.”

                Eventually he eased himself down beside the other man, looking suspiciously at the water. “Psychic projection?”

                “Yes. No. It’s just a space in my mind, a happy place. I created it from memory.”

                “So we’re in your mind?”

                “Yes.”

                Remy touched his own head, wondering why he hadn’t felt any pain associated with the telepathic link.

                “You won’t feel any pain. It’s not the same as what Essex and Xavier have put you through in the past. My power doesn’t need to force its way through your kinetic static to be felt. It can filter itself without causing either of us harm.”

                “How is dat possible?”

                Scott shrugged. “How is anything possible?”

                Remy looked to the sky, trying to take it all in and understand what this meant. He caught a glimpse of the sunlight through the low, cotton-candy clouds that hung above them and noticed the way it shimmered and rived, as if it were a living flame trying to stretch itself across the sky but was forcibly contained.

                “I wish I had been able to show Jean this.”

                Remy looked at him. “You never shared dis wit her? I mean…you never told her about where you came from?”

                “Of course I did. I just wish…I wish she could have seen _this_. I wish she could see what I am _now_. That I could be stronger.”

                “I’m sure she knew, Scott.”

                “No. All she ever knew was the good student, the teacher’s pet. Little Scotty Summers, who lost his parents and his brother, who hit his head and lost control of his powers. Who needed the Professor’s guidance, Hank’s smarts and her confidence to prop him up. When I was with the team, when I was Cyclops, I had direction. But as soon as I stepped out of that uniform, it all fell apart.”

                It was a mouthful and Scott felt himself shaking faintly as it all came out. The other X-Men let him catch his breath patiently.

                “And what would you have rather she see you as?”

                Scott didn’t answer, but Remy knew the answer anyway. It was impossible to hide while they were so inexorably linked to his mind. Remy caught a glimpse of Logan’s shadow as it passed over them, and as he looked up, he saw the man’s figure, moving along the other edge of the lake, staring back at them.

                He knew of course it wasn’t the real Wolverine, only a distorted representation. Logan was something Scott viewed as a unattainable goal, something he longed to chase, but also something dangerous. And so it was kept at a distance.

                 “Dat’s only what you t’ink you want, mon ami.” LeBeau said thoughtfully. “But dat’s just not you. You’re strong in a different way than Wolverine. You’re smart, you’re responsible, you hold it together under pressure better than most of us. De X-Men need dat.” He paused, still catching faint glimpses of Logan’s shadow moving through the trees.

“You can’t go on hatin’ him forever.”

“I’m not sure you want to test that theory.” Scott answered with a mirthless smile.

“It hurt when t’ings didn’t work out wit you two. Maybe more den it hurt when it didn’t work out wit Jean. Logan was your way out, but he rejected you. You’ve never forgiven him for that.”

                Scott looked vaguely startled by the casual assessment, and Remy just shrugged. “Desole. A little too on the spot?”

                “It hurt…that he didn’t want me. But it wasn’t…I mean, I wasn’t _surprised_. Not really. I made the mistake of going to him. I don’t know what I thought I’d get out of it.”

                “Wolverine has a certain charm of his own; even if he look a little mean on de outside sometimes. Not as hard as he t’inks to look past dat shell, see his softer side. Like a big ol’, hair covered crawfish.”

                They laughed at the idea, easily and freely. Remy was aware of Scott letting down his guard, and it was an odd being able to see as well as feel it. But he decided to use the moment to his advantage. Maybe Scott would hear him out at last, undistributed by the outside world.

                “You push yourself too hard. I know you’ve been hurt, happens to de best of us. Love is a tricky t’ing. It ain’t fair dat de only two people you’ve opened yourself up to let ya down. But it’s life. You keep wallowin’ in dose mistakes and it’ll eat you up, change ya, make you someone you don’t like.” He looked at him with more concern. “We’re all afraid we’re losing you, Scott. Jean might be gone, but there’s still somethin’ to live for out there in the real world. There are people who love you, more den you know.”

                Remy of course, was speaking of Bobby. But Scott read the message very differently.

Scott stood, staring off across the lake. Raising his hand, he caused the landscape before them to shift and bend, levitating an entire patch of earth from its place and lifting it slowly into the air, where it remained suspended. He studied it with great care, a new idea forming in the back of his mind. “I wasn’t enough for them as I was. But now that’s all going to change. I don’t need others to prop me up anymore. My powers can protect us all.”

                Gambit looked at him sternly, sensing a dark, unsettling shift in his friend’s perspective. The water below them darkened and Remy began to suspect that they were being watched.

“Do you really believe that it’s your abilities they love?” The words had barely left his lips before he realized that he had been thinking the very same thing only moments before Scott’s arrival, and Scott seemed to know it.

                “The reality is that whether or not they love us for our abilities, we are judged by them. Our abilities are what define us to the rest of the world; for good or bad. So we need to make the most of them, instead of hiding them to fit a standard or a mold.” He looked at him seriously. “Aren’t you tired of that? Of trying to be like them when we are so, so much more?”

                Remy looked down into the water, finding it deep, dark and murky and despite the way the surface looked completely serene and still, he could sense something churning and boiling just beyond his perception.

                It made him feel uneasy.

                “Thank you for showing me dis. But I t’ink it’s time we went back home now.”

                “I suppose you’re right.” Cyclops nodded, and as he took Remy’s hand in his, the pier and lake vanished, leaving them standing in the field again.

                But now the sky had changed from the hot blazing blue of late afternoon, to the twilight shades of indigo, violet and hot pink, and the lights of Salem Center twinkled like new stars over the darkening tree tops.

                Remy blinked in amazement. They had been gone for hours. He looked to Scott, who seemed equally stunned by this.

                “Uh oh.”

                Their legs were stiff and there was an ache in their feet and backs. Their shoes had sunk down in the soft dirt, making deep and defined imprints. Their physical bodies had been standing in the same spot, seemingly motionless this entire time.

                The pair looked at each other and then laughed again, though this time it was tinged with nervousness. “I think we’ve got all the fresh air we need for the day. Let’s head back to the mansion. Sure they’ll wonder where we’ve gone.”

                “So?” Scott retorted, frowning. “Are you really in a hurry to run back there?”

                Remy was about to argue, but it seemed pointless. “Non. But left t’ings in kind of a hurry and I’m sure Hank and Ro will be worried.” He paused an added, “And I’m sure Bobby will be looking for you.”

                “Bobby?”

                Remy sighed and playfully flicked the man’s forehead, making him wince. “For all dose powers you’ve suddenly developed cher, you’re still havin’ trouble seein’ what’s right under yer nose.” He looked back towards the town twinkling in the distance. “Guess we’d better get walkin’.”

 

***

 

                Not too far away, another pair of X-Men were settling into an equally awkward situation.

                Since putting down their bags at the apartment they were “renting” for a few weeks, Logan had not been able to sit still. He paced up and down the floors, returning to his old habit of smoking his cigars, though Kurt had convinced him to open the windows to vent the acrid smell of the smoke.

                Kurt sat on the worn-out couch near the fan, looking at the older man hesitantly, unsure if it was wise to break the silence between them. “It can’t be as bad as all that, ja?” he suggested hopefully, causing Logan to pause briefly with a grunt, flicking his gaze in his direction. “We are not far from ze school if they need us, and if we work together, surely we can find out what this new group of hate mongers is up to before we are even missed.” He smiled, hoping this would ease some of the older man’s obvious tension.

                “Glad yer so optimistic, Elf.” Wolverine grunted. He moved towards the window, looking out at the street below. It was busy as usual, and the hefty amount of mingling smells—human, machine and otherwise—made him feel even more sour. The only thing that eased the over stimulation was the cigar, which blotted out almost everything else. He stood there for a moment, eyes lingering from person to person. Salem Center really had become a hot spot for the young university crowd, despite it being summer and the college itself only having limited classes during those months. He was hard pressed, in fact, to find many passer-byes that were over the age of 25-30. And that seemed odd enough, as it was more than just a college town.

                It was unsettling to see a younger generation falling in with the Mutant fearing crowd. In all his long, weary time on this earth he thought that each generation would learn the lesson that the one before it failed. But the pattern remained. However much acceptance and call for change there was out there, the hatred and fear was always there right behind it, trying to scream it down.

                Eventually his eyes drifted back to Kurt, who had forgone his holographic disguise and returned to his normal blue form. “Whatever trouble we run into here, I want you to be careful. Things go south, you get yourself to safety, don’t worry about me.”

                “That’s nonsense talk.” Nightcrawler answer. “I would never leave you behind. And should things get bad, I can always teleport us away.” He smiled at him sincerely, for he did have a great affection for the man. “You don’t always have to go throwing yourself on grenades to protect us, Logan. We are not defenseless.”

                Wolverine nodded, but his expression finally softened. “I’m getting’ hungry. How about pizza?”

                “Sounds good!”

                He dug around in his bag for his phone, only to pause, hearing a knock on the door. The two men looked at each other curiously.

                “Well zat was fast.”

                “Shhh.”

                Logan moved towards the door, waving for Kurt to hide or to disguise himself again. He turned the knob, pulling the door only as wide as the chain on the latch would allow and glared through the small space between. Even through the door he could smell a mix of deodorant spray, sweaty sneakers and too much hair product.

                “Can I help you?” Logan snarled, doing his best to look unfriendly.

                The face on the other side of the door looked momentarily taken aback, but didn’t retreat. The man was taller than Wolverine by maybe six inches and was dressed a jersey, jeans and a green beanie over his black hair.

                “Uh, hi! Sorry to bother you, sir, I just heard there was someone new in the building and wanted to say hello and uh—“ he had a stack of papers in his hand, and Logan glanced at them curiously, opening the door wider now.

                The man on the other side of the door spotted Kurt and seemed to be relieved. “Oh, hey there! Um, I’m Gary, are you guys new to the area?”

                “Ja,” Kurt replied nervously, moving from the couch to the door and nudging Logan out of the way. He extended his hand and the stranger named Gary shook it firmly. Logan stepped on Kurt’s foot to make him end the gesture quickly, before the other man could notice that there weren’t really five fingers gripping his. “I’m Lance. This is my boyfriend, Todd.”

                Logan’s eyes widened, but Kurt continued, undaunted. “I’m starting summer classes at ze university. History major, and you?”

                “Cool,” the stranger replied, “Nice to have some new blood around here. Enrollment’s been down lately because of some of the issues we’ve had with some bad neighbors. I suppose you heard about the attack on the apartment building?”

                “Ja, just awful.”

                “Yeah well, don’t worry too much about it. We’re working extra hard to make sure the school is safe for everyone.” He pulled out a flier from his stack and handed it to Kurt. It was a simplistic design, just a drawing of three fists, raising into the air towards what looked like a cracked letter X.

                “Subtle.” Logan muttered.

                On the back of the flier there was a time, date and address. “If you’re interested, we have a community meeting tonight, newcomers always welcome! You can bring your boyfriend too,” his eyes shifted towards Logan warily. “You must be a post-grad…”

                “Yeah. Getting a Masters in Psychology. I want to study _criminal_ psychology.” Wolverine muttered, and it was Kurt’s turn to nudge him. But Gary didn’t seem to quite catch the veiled threat or insult and just nodded.

                “Oh. Cool!” He looked at Kurt again, “Hey no worries, people are cool at the meeting. My cousin’s gay.”

                “Oh. That’s nice.”

                He tapped the paper, “When you get to the door, you have to give a password. Tonight it’s ‘Denver’, got it? Otherwise they won’t let you in and sometimes the bouncers can get nasty. Gotta be careful, you know.”

                “Of course. Ja, we’ll be there.”

                “Awesome! See you dudes later! I live upstairs, let me know if you need anything!”

                Kurt waved to him and closed the door, which Logan latched again hurriedly before looking gruffly at his companion. “I hope you enjoyed that.”

                “I did,” Wagner smirked, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the cheek, which Logan leaned away from with a yelp.

                “Don’t slobber on me!” He pulled the flier from Kurt’s hand and studied the address and time, noting that they had a few hours to kill before the meeting. It would probably be best to get their early and stake out the place if it was possible. The fewer surprises, the better.

                “Looks like we’ll have to grab grub on the way,” he replied, folding the paper and shoving it into his pocket. “From the sounds of it, this ‘community meeting’ is just a nice way of saying anti-mutant rally for a bunch of fuck boys and their friends. I want to scope the place out and see who’s providing the shovels for this shit show.”

                “Right. But if we’re scene, you have to keep up the charade, yes? Keep the claws under wraps and let me do the talking.”

                “Yeah, no. When you talk, things get weird.”

                “Logan, who are they going to trust more? The handsome young guy with the charming accent who actually looks like he belongs here, or you and your, um…angry scruff?”

                Wolverine rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll play nice.”

                “Also, if anyone asks, we met last summer on vacation in Switzerland and—“

                “Don’t push it, _Lance._ ”

 

**

                The address turned out to a theater, one that had become a staple of the university crowd, while a larger more modern one was being built further downtown. In the early evening haze it was actually quite busy with overheated patrons looking to pass the time and escape the heat for awhile.

                They loitered for a time, doing their best to look inconspicuous as they ate together on the park bench across the street.

                “For as busy as it is,” Kurt noticed between mouthfuls of hot, gooey pizza and slurps from a giant slushie cup. “You’d think they’d have more showings. Looks like the last one is at 6:45.”

                Logan glanced at his phone, “The meeting is at 8. Plenty of time for them to clear out space for their get together.” He muttered.

                “You think they’ll be armed?”

                “Positive.”

                Kurt shifted uncomfortably, remembering the gas that had nearly killed him just a few days before.  “Well…at least this time we’ll be ready.”

                Logan nodded but didn’t look as secure in the statement. Kurt frowned. “Surely you don’t think me _zat_ incompetent?”

                His companion looked up, surprised for a moment, then shook his burly head. “Kid, I’d take you in a pinch any day. I’ve seen you fight, I’ve seen you go up against some pretty nasty odds and come out grinnin’ like god damn Earl Flynn. It ain’t you I’m worried about. It ain’t even them.”

                “Then what it is?”

                Logan was thinking about Scott. If the Phoenix had taken control before to attack Marcus, which it saw as a threat to not only it’s host, but Mutants in general, there stood a chance that the same thing could happen here.  However wrong these kids were in their ignorant and detestable practices, they were still just that. _Kids_. Young minds that were more than likely being manipulated by something much more cunning and sinister than them. They were puppets, and Logan doubted any of them realized how quickly they could become canon fodder if things got out of hand.

                He didn’t want to go up against the Phoenix again. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to put Scott down the way he had done with Jean. The thought made him ill. His face must have said as much because Nightcrawler leaned a bit closer to him.

                Before he could say anything else, however, they spotted their friend Gary among the crowd, heading towards the theater, laden down with boxes of supplies. The pair tensed, not wanting to be seen, luckily they went unnoticed as the group made their way around the side of the theater.

                “Do we follow?”

                “Not yet.”

                Only once they had left their sight completely did he stand. “We go in the front, have a look around first. Still lot time before things get started.”

 

                The ticket taker was missing from her box when they entered, and the few workers at the concession stand were too preoccupied to notice the pair as they slipped through the lobby and towards the ramp leading to the different show rooms. The fanned out, Logan going left and Kurt heading right, peeking in various doors and making a mental count of how many people were inside, all the possible exits and where it was likely that Gary and his pals would be setting up shop.

                It took only a few minutes to realize that the group had not gone into any of the theaters themselves, but instead had taken a side door down into the basement. Logan could smell Gary’s scent down the steps, along with a heavy mix of others. He ushered Kurt to follow him as they observed the door from an alcove, watching people filter in and out with food, folding chairs and cases of alcohol. Surprisingly, no sign of weapons though.

                “We can’t stay here long,” Kurt whispered next to his team mate. “Someone will spot us soon, and we don’t even have tickets.”

                Logan pressed his palm lightly over his mouth, pushing the smaller man flatter against the black wall, receding deeper into the shadow to avoid being noticed. But it was no good. He heard footsteps heading straight for them and looked to Kurt with apprehension.

                The curious student was almost on top of them when Kurt suddenly put his arms around Wolverine’s short, thick frame and with a rush of air and another loud “BAMF” they vanished into smoke.

                A few seconds later the pair reappeared inside the empty projection room of the nearest show room, and Logan struggled to catch his breath for a second. He _hated_ teleporting. “Goddammit Elf, that was too close!”

                “Sorry!” Kurt snapped. “But we were invited to the meeting, ja? Maybe they wouldn’t have found us suspicious if we weren’t hiding and you weren’t ready to stab one of them!”

                Wolverine growled at him but said nothing else. No doubt their abrupt exit had tipped off the group that _something_ was up. That almost guaranteed a boost in hostility, though they had been fortunate enough not to have been seen.

                “What do we do now?” Kurt asked eventually.

                “You’re going to go down there and see if you can help them set up the place. Cozy up to ‘em, get a feel for what’s going on and keep ‘em distracted while I sniff around.”

                Nightcrawler looked nervous at the idea of separating, but knew he would have an easier time of things without Logan drawing suspicion. He nodded. “How will I find you if something goes wrong?”

                “I’ll find you.” The older man answered. “Be careful.”

                His teammate nodded and vanished, leaving Wolverine alone in the room once more, trying to reign in his frazzled nerves and plan his next step. He fumbled for his phone inside his pocket and pulled it out. Talking to Remy, being assured that Scott was right where he had left him would help him focus.

                But there was no answer. After three tries, Logan grew more irritated and tried Storm’s number, but again nothing.

                His gut told him that something was wrong. He should pull the plug on the whole thing and get Kurt out of here and back to mansion now. He stepped out of the booth unnoticed and back into the darkened, carpeted halls of the theater. This time, he was approached by what appeared to be an usher, wearing a name tag and a button down shirt, carrying a flashlight.

                “Sir? Are you looking for the restroom?” he called.

                He didn’t look up at him, waving his phone as if to say “just stepping out a moment” and turned away from him as he started to dial Hank’s number.

                “Sir, sorry, can I see your ticket stub?”

                Logan tried to ignore the kid, moving towards the restroom.

                “Sir?”

                The feral mutant glared at him over his shoulder, phone to his ear, hoping the kid would be scared off. The phone was ringing.

                Something struck him in the neck and made him yelp, dropping the phone as he reached for the offending object that stuck in his skin. Ripping it away, he realized it was a long, tipped dart and the smell of it tipped it off immediately that it was full of poison.

                He could already feel his throat seizing up, his skin burning, vision spotting. The shit was potent, whatever it was, and if it weren’t for his healing factor he’d likely already be done for. Instead his survival instincts had kicked into high gear, and he saw red, claws unsheathing, teeth bared.

                “Bad move, asshole.”

                The usher with the flashlight—not a flashlight at all actually—was staring him down, though he looked ready to piss himself. Logan lunged at him, only to receive another dart, then another, both to his back.

                It didn’t exactly save the kid in the front of him, who got a swipe across the arm that would probably leave his arm useless for a long time to come, knocking away his weapon. But the other ushers coming behind him were quicker.

                Soon the poison was overwhelming, and struggle though he might, Logan couldn’t get himself off the floor where he had fallen. He couldn’t breathe, and blood and foam dripped from his lips as he tried to push through. He felt a hard kick to the back of his head, and then nothing else.

 

**


	15. Chapter 15

 

**

               

                By the time the pair arrived in town, the purple and pink haze of twilight was passing into night, bringing on the warm glow of street lamps and store signs and the bright yellow squares from open windows.  For the moment, there was not a care between them, and as they  moved, Scott had been rather quiet and reserved. It didn’t strike his companion as odd, however, considering what was surely on his mind.

                Gambit had every intention to get back to the mansion and fall into bed, ready to put the day’s stressors behind him and deal with the loose ends when he wasn’t so mentally spent. As they walked, they found themselves passing through the old junk yard lot behind the theater, the same as the day before.

                Remy ignored it and continued to move, but quickly noticed that Scott had fallen behind. He turned, seeing the man staring up at the theater in silence.

                “Thinkin’ of catching a late showing?” Remy called, but Scott ignored him.

                The brunette stood, lost in the sudden whispering rush of voices that had caught his attention. His telepathy was picking up on a flurry of thoughts coming from people inside the theater, though he didn’t understand why. He tried to shake them away, to force the noise down and disconnect from these other voices.

                But something quickly caught his attention.

                “Kurt’s in there,” he said to Remy, who merely shrugged in response.

                “Probably on a date wit Kitty,” he suggested.

                “No. He’s with Logan. But I’m not sensing Wolverine’s thoughts…” he closed his eyes and attempted to focus harder on Kurt, trying to connect with him more directly.

                _“Kurt? Kurt, it’s Scott. What’s going on? I can feel your mind…why are you afraid? What are you doing?”_

There was nothing at first, and then Scott winced when he heard Kurt’s voice in his head, loud and nervous.

                _“Scott?! You shouldn’t be here—“_

_“Nevermind that, tell me what’s going on.”_

_“We’re undercover. There’s an anti-Mutant group that’s meeting here in the theater tonight, Wolverine and I are trying to figure out what they’re up to. But you could be recognized, you should stay away until we know what we’re dealing with.”_

_“Kurt, I don’t sense Logan. His thoughts are blank. Is he with you?”_

_“No, we split up. They are here, I have to go!”_

“Kurt!” Scott found himself exclaiming out loud when he felt the other man break their connection.

                “What’s wrong?”

                “I think Nightcrawler and Wolverine have walked into a trap. We need to get inside.”

                “ _There you are!_ ”

                The shout came from above, and both men turned to the south to see Ororo gliding down from the sky, coming to land next to them. As he feet touched the ground, she looked between the pair, her expression serious but not giving away the emotions boiling beneath it.

                Remy’s Empathy picked up on it immediately, and he braced himself. “Cherie, before you—“

                She held up a hand, waving off the explanation. “You can explain later if you wish, I’m just glad to find you safe.”

                “Was there a doubt?” Scott asked, his tone even but with a note of condescension.

                Ororo’s gaze hardened slightly as she looked at him. “The Professor wanted us to remain on the grounds until things calmed down. Until it’s safe again.”

                “Wake up, Ororo. It will never be safe for us. Not while we let them push us around.” Scott replied.

                “Do you hear yourself?” the woman asked him. “Do you have any idea who you sound like?”

                Scott stepped forward, looking like he was about to feed her a piece of his mind, but Remy slapped a hand against his chest and pushed him back. “We don’t have time for dis,” Remy snapped between the two of them. “Apparently Wolverine and Nightcrawler are here, and dey may be in trouble.”

                This took Storm aback, and she quickly set aside her frustrations. “They were supposed to be gathering information on the terrorist group, why are they—“

                “Seems like our young mutant haters like the movies. They’re inside, dozens of them. I can sense their thoughts,” Scott answered, though the task itself seemed to be straining him. Without the Phoenix’s guidance, his new powers were a struggle to manage. “They’re excited, but I’m not sure why. There’s something—an event they’re working towards—but the details are vague. Too many thoughts…”

                Headlights washed over them as a car pulled up along the curb of the lot and Piotr stepped out, moving towards the small group in quick, heavy strides. “Everything alright here?”

                “Scott, can you tell if they’re planning anything right now? Are they armed? Dangerous?” Storm pressed, but Scott was already breaking into a sweat as he tried to manage so many different thoughts at once. Remy touched him, bringing him back to himself.

                “I’m sorry, I—“

                “Steady now, you’ve done enough.” Gambit assured, sensing that Scott’s control was thin and fearing what would happen if he were to lose it again.  “Alright, I’ll go in de front and have a look around, get a feel for what dey’re up to, try to find Logan and Kurt if I can. Scott, you go wit Piotr, take de side doors in case we need to evacuate anyone. Ro, think you can handle de roof? Think I see an entrance up dere.”

                They nodded, though Scott looked reluctant to leave Remy’s side. The Cajun ignored him, moving with Storm in the opposite direction as they approached the theater from behind.

                Storm found it easy to keep stride with Gambit as they walked, and slipped her hand briefly into his, catching his eye. “You’re alright now? Under control again?”

                “Oui,” Remy nodded. “Je desole—“

                “I understand. Don’t worry about it.” She kissed his cheek, and he caught her by surprise by turning and kissing her more fully and passionately on the lips, pulling her in close and fast. That moment brought Ororo such relief that her eyes stung with tears. “Truce?” she asked when they pulled apart, smiling in spite of everything.

                He nodded, then broke away as he took off towards the front of the building, allowing her to take to the sky, landing silently on the roof above.

               

Remy made for the front doors, glad that it was dark now and his eyes would not be so readily noticeable as long as he kept his head down. But the ticket taker noticed him instantly and called out to him; “Sir! Do you have a ticket?”

Gambit paused and turned his head towards her, smiling easily. “Ah non, Mam’sell! My friend’s are already inside, dey have my ticket wit dem.” He looked her right in the eye, charming smile still firmly in place. “Dat not a problem, is it?”

The woman on the other side of the glass blushed and shook her head, smiling nervously. “N-no! Not at all, I’m sorry, go right ahead.”

“Merci,” Remy nodded and strode inside. The lobby was not particularly crowded and for this he was grateful. The concession workers were busy with their tasks and didn’t even look at up at him. He scanned the crowd for any sign of Wolverine or Nightcrawler, but there was literally neither hide nor tail of them to be seen.

He moved towards the ramp leading into the theaters beyond and about to be stopped by the usher there, when Remy simply turned and blew him a kiss. “Nevermind, homme. I know de way to my seat.”

The young man stopped, flustered and staring, red in the face and Remy moved on quickly before his Charm could take a stronger hold on him. He wasn’t trying to control it at the moment; he needed to be able to move freely, to answer as few questions as possible, and ward off whatever hostility he might encounter until he knew what he was going up against.

Scott’s words, how he said he couldn’t hear Logan’s thoughts, were swirling in his brain and causing a tightening in his chest. What did that mean? Was something masking Wolverine’s thoughts from his mind or—

Remy knew the alternative was all but impossible. Logan couldn’t die—at least, not for more than a few minutes. His healing factor was far too strong. But his lover worried all the same, unable to help himself.

The long, dark halls were empty in front of him and the only noise seemed to come from the lobby or from the blaring speakers in each of the rooms. He had just emerged from peeking inside one show room, when he saw a sliver of outside light from down the hall. He stepped quickly into the shadows and watched as a handful of people emerged from what should have been a locked emergency exit and made their way into a black side door that was clearly for staff only.

He wished he’d had his communicator then, so he could let the others know what he had seen, but there was nothing for it. Hopefully Scott could sense what he was thinking if nothing else. He moved slowly but purposefully towards the door where he had seen the others disappear.

He tested the knob, and just as it was turning over in his palm, someone else called out to him.

“That room’s for staff only, sir.”

Remy knew without looking up that he had been caught. He also knew that the man standing behind him was armed. He could feel the nervous thrill rushing through him, the excited thought that he might actually get to use some of his training, and what his friends would think of him for stopping this threat.

Gambit raised his hands and turned slowly, locking eyes with the man behind him immediately. “Innocent mistake,” he grinned.

The man, thin and althetic looking with blonde hair and freckles, blinked back at him, stunned by the only visible mutation which Gambit possessed, which were his black and red eyes. But the Charm had already strangled the urge to fight out of him. He had fallen hard and fast under Remy’s influence, doing nothing but staring in rapt awe at him.

Remy let his gaze drift to the man’s hands, where he could see the outline of a gun in his jacket pocket, pointed right at him. “Hmm, you always carry one of dose around homme?” he asked, “or are you just happy to see me?”

The man stuttered and Remy laid a finger against his lips. “Listen to me. I’m lookin’ for some friends of mine, maybe you know ‘em. One has black hair, short, kinda mean lookin. Likes flannel. The other’s kinda skinny, young like yourself, has a German accent. Might you seen dem around?”

“You’re so hot…”

Gambit snapped his fingers in irritation, making the man nervously snap to attention. “Nevermind dat, have you seen my friends?”

“The short one’s back behind the screen in theater four. He’s a dirty Mutie, tryin’ to sneak in here. We’re gonna make an example of ‘im. Don’t know about the other one.”

Remy nodded. “Merci, my little dim-witted friend. Now why don’t you do Remy a big ol’ favor and close your eyes? I wanna give ya somethin’ nice…”

The man shivered with anticipation and did as he was told, only to have Remy cock back his fist and deck him hard across the jaw, sending him to the floor with a thud. The Cajun grabbed the unconscious frat boy under the arms and dragged him down the hall and stuffed him behind the trash cans inside the theater entrance before hurriedly moving on.

_“If I ever needed someone to read my damn mind it’s right now,_ ” he thought hastily, hoping that Scott was still able to navigate through the static and catch his thoughts.

_“I hear you Gambit,”_ Scott answered back and Remy couldn’t help but smile with relief.

_“Looks to me like dey’re gathering in de basement of de theater, but the place is crawling with trigger happy frat boys. Dey’ve caught Logan, but I got no idea where Kurt is.”_

_“Understood. I’ll be right there._ ”

_“I’m going after Logan, you take Colossus and Storm and look for Kurt.”_

The link between them broke and Remy moved on, making his way to theater four, where Logan was apparently being held. A movie was playing inside and as he peered around the edge of the steep incline of steps, he saw that it was a packed room. He cursed quietly under his breath; that was going to make things that much more difficult, as he was almost certain that Wolverine would be guarded.

Remaining obscured in the shadows he scanned the room, trying to figure out how to get behind the large gleaming screen. After a few moments, he spotted an almost seamless door near the screen that was obviously not an exit.

He crept towards it, unseen by the audience at large as they were absorbed in the action on screen. The door was of course locked, but it was little more than a momentary inconvenience for an expert thief.

He slipped into the darkness beyond, finding that the room looked to be some small, auxiliary space that was currently being used for storage, and that it appeared to have its own exit to the outside of the building.

Inside it was dim and dusty. Remy listened, trying to discern whether or not he was alone in the cramped, stifling space. He could hear heavy breathing from somewhere beyond and moved towards the sound, discovering a suspicious tarp-covered lump upon the floor.

Moving boxes and crates aside, the kicked the tarp up only to find Logan, hands bound behind his back, lying there unconscious. Remy cried out and dropped beside him, turning him over and lifting his head into his lap, trying to wake him.

“Logan! Can you hear me, cher?! What have dey done…” he looked at the tiny red pucker marks in Wolverine’s skin and cringed. He wasn’t sure how old the wounds were, but surely the should have closed by now.

The Cajun mutant busied himself undoing the ties around his lover’s wrists, unaware of the movement behind him. Arms came around his shoulders and jerked him backwards and Remy only managed to catch the other hand as it came down, armed with a sinister looking syringe, which was ready to be plunged into his neck.

The pair grappled, arms shaking with the effort to move the needle in opposing directions. Gambit was stunned at the man’s strength, wondering how long he would be able to contend. The man above him was furious and anxious, clearly unafraid of what he was about to do.

“Don’t bother fightin’ it, freak,” he hissed, pushing down harder and managing to bring the needle point dangerously close to Remy’s skin, “One little pinch and you’ll never even know what hit ya.”

                Remy snarled, eyes glowing suddenly as a rush of energy raced up his arm, reaching the man’s fist and the needle clutched inside. It exploded with a pop and the man fell back with a yelp, hand burned and sliced by the shattered glass.

                Before he had time to recover, LeBeau was on him, punching and kicking, until he’d flung the man against the wall, and pressed his forearm hard across his neck, threatening to crush his windpipe.

                “Start talking!” he barked. “What’s in the needle?!”

                “I-I-I’m not sure! I just know it kills Mutants, fucks ‘em from the inside! Some kind of poison!”

                Gambit’s eyes continued to shine dangerous, more sparks coming from his fingers as he felt rage rising higher in him, “Where’d you get it, bastard?”

                The man tried to shake his head, either too afraid to answer or truly without one. Remy didn’t really care either way, he pushed his arm hard against his throat, making him gag, lifting his other hand and holding it close to his assailant’s face as it began to collect a charge of energy. “Ain’t often I consider seeing what my powers will do to human flesh. But I might make an exception for you—“

                “Cajun!”

                Remy looked over his shoulder hurriedly to see that Wolverine had finally revived, though he seemed somewhat sluggish getting to his feet. “He ain’t worth it, darlin’…let ‘im go.”

                The other Mutant hesitated, and the man in front of him trembled in terror. It was only seeing himself reflected in the man’s wide, frightened eyes that made him recoil. He let him drop to the ground, choking for air, and then kneed him hard in the face, sending him flat to the ground in a heap. With the threat neutralized he turned hurriedly towards Wolverine, who was still struggling to stand.

                “I’ve got you,” he assured him, looping an arm around him and kissing his forehead in desperate relief. “You’re alright now, cher.”

                “Nobody’s gonna be alright if we don’t stop them. Where’s the Elf?”

                “The others are looking for him now.” He said, guiding the man towards the door.

                “What others?”

                “Ro, Colossus and Scott.”

                Logan groaned, “No no no…” he lost his footing and went down and Remy struggled to support his heavy frame, only to end up sinking to the floor with him.

                “Logan!”

                Wolverine fell against his shoulder, covered in cold sweat and shaking. Remy could feel his pulse racing as his body’s healing factor struggled to cope with the potent venom that he’d been filled with. Seeing his lover in pain this way set something off in Gambit, something dangerous. A hunger for revenge.

                “Cher, we’ve got to go, more will be coming…”

                Logan grunted and tried again to get to his feet, which he did so with great effort. “This shit…whatever it is…it’ll kill Humans just as easy as Mutants. It’s worse than the gas they were using before. I doubt these fuckwads realize that. We’ve got to shut ‘em down, now, before they get a chance to use it on anyone else.”

                LeBeau nodded in understanding, maneuvering him back through the door into the theater. He all but dragged Logan down the narrow aisle towards the doors, only to be greeted by several more ushers, all bearing guns.

                “Don’t move!” they warned.

                _Snikt!_

                Logan’s claws were a blur of bright silver as they slashed across the group, slicing the weapons to pieces and taking a few fingers with them. They howled in pain and fear, only to be driven back by the two X-Men and quickly subdued.

                Still they knew their cover was blown, and they needed to take the fight away from here, away from civilians as quickly as possible. There was the distant popping sound of shots and someone yelling from the lobby, and a moment later Storm appeared in the hall.

                They spotted each other at once and she rushed to their side. Seeing Logan’s disheveled state, she gripped him with concern. “I thought you were supposed to be taking the subtle approach?”

                “Since when have you ever known me to be subtle, sweetheart?” he asked.

                There were more shouts from down the hall, and the side exit door blew wide open, more figures being flung through it as they screamed before crashing and rolling across the carpet. Cyclops stepped through the opening, followed by Piotr, who had transformed into his armored form again.

                “There’s more of them than we thought,” Scott called. “They’ve got Nightcrawler!”

                The three rushed towards them, joining together at basement door as Scott opened up his optic beam and sliced right through it, rendering it nothing but warped metal.

                They charged into the darkness together, encountering more poorly armed group members, that Scott made short work of with his telekinesis, removing their weapons and flattening them to the wall, paralyzing them.

                They screamed for help, but Scott rendered them mute with a single thought.

                The group emptied out into a large open room that was filled with students and other people from town, most looking rather horrified to find themselves under attack. At the front of the room, was a small platform stage, on which stood several armed men and women, with Kurt forced to his knees between them, once more in his true form. Two people were holding him down, one being the very same apartment tenant who had invited the pair. But more concerning was the strange masked man behind them, who was holding the same kind of syringe that Wolverine and Gambit had been attacked with.

                Scott fired another short, precise blast that just narrowly missed removing the man’s head, blackening the wall behind him in result and causing him to drop the poison in his hand, while Remy fired off a volley of cards which exploded across the stage, blinding the men holding Kurt and allowing him to teleport away.

                He reappeared beside them, shaken but relieved.

                “Mein Gott! I was afraid you wouldn’t get here in time,” he rasped, gripping on to Wolverine, who had fully recovered at last.

                “Kill the Mutants!” the man on the stage bellowed to his followers.

                The crowd attempted to swarm them, but they found themselves blown back by a gale of wind, and another volley of bright magenta explosions, that sent them scrambling backwards, many attempting to flee out a fire exit to safety.

                The explosions set off the sprinklers and the fire alarms, dousing the room in water. The students shouted and tried to cover themselves, still scrambling to attack or retreat. The room was in chaos.

                It was Scott who saw the lone figure on the stage, fumble for something beneath one of the covered tables at the back of the stage, producing a large sub-machine gun. He stared at him wide-eyed, as the man lifted his mask—revealing a pale, narrow face with blonde hair and blue eyes, and white-blonde stubble around his chin. He grinned viciously at Scott, looking him right in the eye, and then took aim and opened fire.

                Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Scott felt as though he had stepped outside of himself, watching the events from a spectator’s view.  The gunman on the stage was not concerned with who might be in the way of his bullets—his followers were just as likely to be struck by them as his own team mates. His was intent was to kill as many Mutants as quickly as possible. Everything else was unimportant.

                He knew he was in target range. It was likely he would be struck first in fact, followed by Ororo, and then Remy, who were all at the front of the group. Though Colossus would be safe from damage himself, there was an even greater risk that the bullets deflecting off his body would do even more damage.

                He sensed movement behind him. Logan was grabbing Kurt, hard, mouth open to shout something at him. Scott knew what it was, but it was difficult to determine if Kurt could teleport them, all of them, faster than the bullets could reach them. Unlikely.

                He looked again at the shooter. The Phoenix stirred inside him, irate, begging to break its bonds and show itself, to defend its creations from this clear and present threat.

                Scott agreed. But on his terms.

                He felt a rush, suddenly back in the moment, with bullets racing towards them as the people before them screamed.

                He raised his hands with a shout, halting the bullets in their path, just inches shy of burying themselves inside the flesh and bone of both Human and Mutant alike. Everyone stared, stunned. Scott yelled again and crushed the metal into useless clumps with fell to the ground with a clatter. With another flick of his wrist, he flung those in his path aside, sending them crashing across the hall, scattered in moaning and terrified heaps.

                The man on the stage looked impressed, though not particularly frightened. Scott’s mind reached out and touched his and quickly concluded he did not like what he saw in there.

                Using his telekinesis he ripped the gun from the man’s hand, pulling it across the room to rest in his own hands. Cyclops looked it over a for a moment before dropping it to the floor and melting it with his optic beam.

                “You X-Men got style,” the man on the stage spoke. “I’ll give you that.”

                “We need to get out of here,” Logan warned behind them.

                Cyclops ignored him and started towards the man on the stage.

                “Scott,” Ororo cautioned.

                “Better listen to your friends, _Cyclops_.” The other mocked. He reached back grabbed the cloth off the table, revealing dozens of canisters filled with the same toxic gas that had filled the apartment building days before. He grinned at them as they tensed with fear.

                “There’s enough of this baby to put down a city block’s worth of you gene freaks. I’d hate to waste it on just a handful of you. But if I have to—“

                “Don’t!” Storm bellowed. “If you release that, everyone here will die, don’t you understand?! Everyone in this room, everyone in this theater! They will all be dead, by your hand!”

                He shrugged. “You know what they say. Gotta crack a few eggs to make an omelet…”

                He made to reach for one of the canisters, but was met by a bolt of lightning which caused him to convulse and fall to the ground, smelling of singed hair and something oddly metallic.

                Above them they heard the thundering of footsteps, and people shouting orders to one another. Colossus looked back up the stairwell to see that a SWAT team had arrived.

                “Nightcrawler, get us out of here,” Logan demanded, causing to Kurt to look at him fearfully.

                “But—I don’t think—“

                “STAY WHERE YOU ARE! ON THE GROUND, HANDS ON YOUR HEADS!”

                “Kurt now!!”

                They yanked everyone in as closely as possible, all gripping together tightly as Kurt teleported them away with a deafening BAMF and a thick cloud of smoke.

               

                They reappeared just outside the theater, behind the park bench where he and Logan had been staking out the place earlier. The group fell together in a heap, all reeling from the experience. None more so than Nightcrawler himself, who collapsed, breathing hard.

                Scott was the first to pick himself up, taking stock of the situation. Police cars and SWAT vehicles had surrounded the theater, and a line had been established across the connecting streets, cutting off traffic and keeping the crowds back. For the moment, they had gone unnoticed, but that wouldn’t last long. Sirens were wailing and bright flashes of red and blue from the cars ahead of them cut through the dark.

                There was a light above them then, light a hot streak of gold and red. The shape form quickly and came to land hard on the ground in front of them. Iron Man’s visor lifted as he stared at the group, then glanced behind him to look at the theater.

                “And I thought _I_ was bad at keeping a low profile.”

                “Police! Everyone stay where you are—“

                Tony turned towards the approaching officers, “Easy guys, they’re with me.”

                “Mr. Stark, you’re a long way from New York City. Please let us handle this, sir.”

                “Guys, listen—“

                “No, _you_ listen.” Ororo thundered, moving to the front of the group to stand beside Tony, who looked shocked at being cut off, but didn’t dare interrupt.

                “We are not the people you should be pointing guns at, _we_ are the ones who were attacked. The man downstairs, the one in the mask, was about to commit multiple counts of murder. Where is he?”

                The officers who had approached looked at each other, one stepping aside to speak into his radio with the other officers inside.

                “He got away…” Scott muttered suddenly, catching their attention. Both Storm and Tony turned to him in surprise as he pushed his way forward, glaring down the armored man. “He’s already gone. Scooped up by the people who sent him. Wolverine was actually right, someone is pulling the strings on this small time group of hate mongers.”

                Scott glanced at the short, dark haired man. “People who would be all too happy to get their hands on you again.”

                Logan set his jaw but said nothing.

                Scott turned back to Stark. “Why are you here anyway? Looking for some cheap publicity?”

                Tony rolled his eyes, “Look pal, you’d be on the ground in cuffs right now if it weren’t for me telling the Po-Po to back off, alright? So give me a little credit—“

                Scott pushed him. “We owe you nothing. Leave.”

                Remy moved forward, “Scott, don’t do dis. Our fight ain’t wit him, just let it go.”

                Cyclops continued to stare Stark down, and Tony could see the color of his eyes shift and change, wavering like flames. He felt unsettled, and his fingers twitched nervously. Logan saw it before anyone else did—that Tony was fingering something in his palm, that he was armed.

                Summers titled his head curiously then. “Funny…your thoughts seem a little scrambled, Mr. Stark. Why is that?”

                “Take it easy, Cyke. I’m on your side.”

                “Really?”

                Scott raised his palm and Tony’s armored glove suddenly flew free from his hand, allowing Scott to catch it easily. He looked it over curiously, “I’ve seen the footage, I know you can stun someone with this. But that shouldn’t be necessary. If we’re on the same side.”  The light in his eyes grew, and those standing closest to him could feel the heat rising from his skin.

                As his anger grew, he was suddenly no longer touching the ground, levitating a few inches above it.

                Nervously, the officers behind them raised their weapons again.

                “Shit, shit, shit!” Logan hissed. “Everyone stop! Put your weapons down, you’re making it worse!” he shouted.

                “Sit this one out, Wolverine.” Cyclops muttered, glancing in the feral’s direction, which caused Logan to suddenly be flung backwards by an invisible force until he crashed into a tree and went face first into the ground as it cracked under his weight and fell on him.

                “LOGAN!”

                Scott crushed Tony’s glove in his hand and threw it back at him. “You fear Mutants, even when we risk our lives to defend you. Always, _always_ you turn from us in fear, in suspicion! I’m sick of bearing your cross! We deserve so much more…”

                Remy and Ororo looked around in terror, seeing that Scott had now become the target of every available police and SWAT member standing outside the theater. This was not going to end well, and Kurt was too weak to attempt to transport them away.

                Iron Man rose to meet the man as he hovered in the air, coming between him and the guns that were now aimed at him. “If you’re looking for a way to kill yourself and prove those fuckers right, you sure picked a hell of a way to do it! Now stand down! I won’t warn you again, buddy.”

                Scott looked at him, but Tony knew he was no longer speaking to rational, calculating Scott Summers. Someone else had taken the driver’s seat. “You bore me, little tin man.”

                He cocked back his fist and punched Tony—harder than anyone expected. Iron Man went spinning backwards until he crashed on top of one of the police wagons, denting the roof and shattering the lights.

                One of the officers that was crouched behind one of the cruisers, let his nerves get the better of him. He fired his gun, and struck Scott below his collar bone, just shy of hitting his shoulder. The bullet ripped through him cleanly, and the shock it caused him to fall back to the ground as his friends cried out.

                Collossus stood, leaving Kurt safely on the ground, provoked to rage by seeing his friends hurt. His sudden movement provoked more gun fire, despite the senior officer shouting for his men to stand down.

                Logan had already emerged from beneath the tree and was charging forward, claws unsheathed. The entire situation was spirally out of control and they were surrounded, utterly, with no where to go.

                _“EVERYONE STOP!”_

                The order came from an unlikely source. Remy had pushed his way forward, standing between the X-Men and the line of police. His eyes were bright and luminous, but he did not appear as though were ready to attack. He hadn’t even raised his staff or any projectiles to defend himself.

                But all movement from the theater ceased. All eyes fell on him instead.

                Wolverine and Storm knew what was happening almost immediately. The Cajun was using his Charm ability in a way they had never witnessed before, at least never on this scale.

                “Put down your weapons. All of ‘dem. Drop ‘em right over here where I can see ‘em.”

                The officers hastened to comply. Even members of the hate group, who were now free of their detainment, moved forward to disarm themselves in front of Gambit.  Within minutes dozens of guns, tasers and clubs were dropped at his feet.

                “Very good boys and girls. Let’s all play nice now, eh? Ladies and Gentlemen of de law, how ‘bout you get yourselves back in your cars and trucks and go on home. Been a long night for all of us, sure you got families ya’ll want to be getting’ home to.”

                The officers and SWAT members nodded in agreement, slowly retreating to their patrol cars and trucks, driving away in a slow, orderly fashion as the remaining crowds cleared for them to do so. This left behind the bewildered remains of the students who had been bought into the masked man’s hate rhetoric.

                Remy approached them, moving past Tony who was sitting in a daze on the pavement. “What are you doing?” he mumbled.

                LeBeau glanced at him, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Go take care of my friends. I’m going to clean up dis mess before you can make it worse.”

                Tony obeyed, aware of Remy’s influence but helpless to shake it off. As he approached the X-Men, he looked nervously to Storm and Wolverine, the former who was attempting to stem the bleeding on Scott’s wound, while the other was nervously staring at his mate.

                “What’s he doing?”

                Gambit looked at the group of people before him, recognizing how deep in his thrall they were and feeling no remorse about it. “You know, I’ve seen some dumb-ass, cruel, small-minded people in my time, but ya’ll are for sure in de top ten. You’re just a bunch of scared, stupid idiots lookin’ for someone to blame your troubles on. You picked the wrong fuckin’ people, mes amis.”

                “We’re sorry!”

                “We won’t ever do it again, please don’t be angry with us!”

                “Please, please, how can we--?”

                “SHUT UP!”

                The crowd silenced immediately and Remy glanced towards the road. “See dat bridge over dere? De one dat goes over lake? Why don't ya’ll go take a leap off it.”

                The group nodded and moved hurriedly towards the street, Remy following after.

                “Gambit…Gambit, what are you doing?” Logan called after him.

                “Goddess…” Storm looked hurriedly to Stark. “Take Scott back to the mansion, NOW.”

                Without hesitating further, Tony nodded, gathering up the unconscious man and taking off into the sky.

                Piotr and Kurt were both up and moving again, the group rushing towards LeBeau and the others.

                “Gambit, my friend! This is unwise! It is not our place to punish—“

                “Be quiet and sit down, Piotr.”

                The hulking metal giant did exactly as told, dropping down to sit neatly on the pavement. “As you wish.”

                Kurt gawked and tugged at the larger man. “What are you doing!? We have to stop him!”

                “I’m sorry,” the older man replied. “But he makes good point.”

                “What point!?”

                “I don’t know, it’s just how he says it.”

                Storm was in the air, gliding above them as the small group moved down the street towards the short bridge that spanned the bottle neck of the small lake at the edge of the campus area. Already the remaining men and women were climbing onto the edge of the cement railing, ready to leap into the water below.

                It was not high enough to kill them on impact, but the possibility of drowning was far higher than they were willing to risk.

                “Stop! Stop what you’re doing! Gambit, stop this right now!”

                Remy looked at her with those piercing, glowing eyes and she was startled by the anger in them. Much like Scott, he no longer seemed himself. “Do not get in my way, Storm. They deserve dis. I’m not goin’ to let dem hurt anyone else.”

                One of the members abruptly stepped from the edge and plummeting with a scream towards the water. Storm swooped after her and caught her easily, bringing her back safely to the middle of the bridge, where she lay shivering.

                “CAJUN!”

                Logan bellowed behind him, making him turn. “Don’t Logan…”

                “You do this and there’s no going back.” Wolverine warned him. “This ain’t what your powers are for! This isn’t you!  You’re not like them, Remy. You’re not what Sinister tried to make you. Don’t do this.”

                The pair stared at each other for a moment, saying nothing. The people on the bridge seemed to slowly come back to themselves, crying out in confusion. The light faded from Gambit’s eyes, returning to their normal ruby and onyx color as the tall southerner seemed to deflate a little. He looked back at his handy work, at the cowering men and women on the bridge and felt his guts freeze inside him. “Mon Dieu…”

                Logan was beside him, hands around him, drawing his attention back. “Look at me. It’s done. We’re getting out of here now.”

                “Je suis desole…”

                Logan ignored the plea and pulled him in hard, looking to the others. “Kurt, I need you one more time, pal. Ro, Piotr, meet us back home.”

                Nightcrawler nodded, taking hold of both men and vanishing in flash of embers and smoke, while Colossus gripped Storm’s hands as she took to the air, leaving the crowd utterly bewildered in their wake.

 

***


	16. Chapter 16

 

***

                The Xavier Institute went dark.

                No one was allowed off the grounds, and Hank’s security system was set at its highest, not only creating a formidable barrier around the grounds, but creating a disruptive field above it, making it appear nearly invisible to government scanners of any kind.

                Xavier found himself backed into a corner by the same people he sought help from. It had taken almost no time for SHEILD to learn of the incident. They warned Xavier that it had to be contained immediately, or he could all but count on Sentinels appearing at their door step within hours.

                What choice was he given?

                He erased the memory of the attack from the minds of the witnesses—all two hundred and fifty people who had been in, or around the theater that night. SHEILD was working on the rest of the loose ends, gathering up the evidence, the gas tanks that had been left behind in the theater, security footage, all the police files.

                Fury wanted LeBeau and Summers for questioning and observation. Here, Xavier drew a line in the sand. He was not giving over anyone to SHEILD. Stark and Banner were negotiating for more time, to be able to handle things here, on the ground, rather than bring either of the Mutants in. But it was unclear how much sway they would hold. But until a decision could be reached, they were to be under heavy surveillance, and should they begin to act erratically, it was put on their fellow X-Men to contain the situation. By whatever means necessary.

 

                Scott’s wound was clean, and had thankfully missed doing any great damage to any muscles or tendons. McCoy’s advanced techniques would see him using his arm again in days, rather than weeks. But the aftermath of the situation seemed to have left the man drained, almost catatonic. He responded very little to any sort of stimuli, and spoke to no one. He seemed utterly lost in his head.

                Under Hank’s supervision, he allowed Banner to monitor his energy levels and brain activity while he was confined to the lab. McCoy kept him mildly sedated, to let him rest and heal, and also to ease the Avenger’s anxiety over what he might do should the Phoenix try to resurface again. It was a condition McCoy hated, but had to surrender to. Logic, for the moment, had to prevail over emotion. But that was not going to be so easy with his other teammate.

 

 

                Gambit was kept out of quarantine in the lab only by the prevailing fury of Wolverine, who had dared Stark or Banner to lay so much as a finger on the other X-Men, swearing they would lose it. Remy had not been injured in the fight, he did not need medical treatment, and keeping him around Scott would likely agitate both parties, now that it was almost certain their powers were feeding into one another.

                But snarl and hiss as Logan might, it could not be overlooked that Gambit had crossed a line and almost committed murder in front of dozens of witnesses. Instead of being confined to the lab, he was instead confined to the attic, under guard of Storm and Colossus.

                It was late when Hank arrived at the door, Tony limping along behind him. Ororo and Piotr both tensed vaguely as they arrived, Tony carrying a small silver case in his hand.

                “How are they?” Hank asked, looking Storm in the eye.

                “Logan has been talking him down best he can,” she answered, but Hank could tell how on edge she was. Her pale eyes slid towards Tony and she looked down at the case in his hands. “What’s that for?”

                “We would like to get some readings, do some tests while everything is still fresh. Maybe Bruce and I can better figure out what’s causing the increase in his abilities, help get them back under control.”

                She shook her head, folding her arms, looking defensive. “I’m not sure that’s a wise idea tonight. What he needs is time to regroup and get his head together. No one knows how to control Remy’s powers better than himself. If you go in there, you’ll only make him feel more threatened.”

                “We’re out of options, Ms. Munroe. He needs to cooperate, or we’re going to have to bring the big guys in on this. People who are a lot less understanding.” Tony insisted.

“Is that a threat?” the woman retorted.

“No. It’s the truth. Gambit needs to prove to SHIELD that he’s willing to play ball. Allowing us to get what we need will go a long way.”

“I’m overseeing everything,” Hank cut in then, giving Tony a firm gaze. “I will make sure it’s as un-invasive as possible.”

“Of course.” Tony nodded.

                Ororo gave this a moment of intense consideration, then upon hearing Wolverine and Gambit’s voices pitch higher in anger on the other side of the door, she finally relented. “Fine. But I’m going in with you. Piotr—“

                The Russian nodded before she could finish and they turned and undid the lock. Inside, things were more unsettled than Storm had guessed. The room was in vague disarray, where it looked as though the pair had been moving throughout it in their restlessness. A glass had been smashed on the floor, papers brushed from Ro’s desk, books knocked off the shelf. Remy’s cards were all over the floor, most of them singed black.

“Everything alright in here?” Storm asked cautiously.

 Remy was outside on the roof top porch, his back to all of them in the dark, while Logan sulked around inside, muttering and cursing. The feral turned to them, for a moment looking like he would snap at them to leave, but instead shook his head.

Hank felt it before Storm and Tony did. There was a current of anxiety, discourse and fear in the room. A potent bouquet of turmoil that could only belong to Remy in this instance. But the fact that Hank and Logan could feel his emotions almost as concretely as if it was mist in the air was startling.

Wolverine stepped towards them. “Not a good time.” He warned.

“How long has he been like this?” McCoy asked, eyes moving to the tall silhouette of the man outside.

“Couple hours,” the other answered. “Can’t do much to calm him like this, I need to take ‘im out of here, get some real distance between him and Summers.”

“Not possible, I’m afraid.” Tony cut in.

                Logan looked at him dangerously. “You gonna stop me?”

                “If it comes to it, yeah.” Stark answered.

                “I’d like to see you try,” the claws were on the verge of appearing and Storm grabbed his wrist and tugged him aside, looking at him sternly.

                “ _Enough_ Logan. Try to see clearly; we need to make sure he’s not a threat to himself—“

                “--Or anyone else?” Remy called to them from the balcony.

                The group looked up pensively.  Logan made to return to his mate’s side, but Storm moved forward instead, stepping out onto the rooftop balcony beside him. “Remy.”

                The Cajun didn’t look at her. He was staring out across the great expanse of darkened lawn, and the trees and the silver swath of moonlight on the lake. The hour was late, the world was still. It would have been romantic, were not for the circumstances. The Cajun had something small and glowing between his fingertips, which Storm came to recognize as another smoldering card, which was slowly turning to cinders.

                “It looks to me like you’re getting a bit of your control back,” she said hopefully, offering him an optimistic smile.

                He didn’t return the gesture and she could sense his irritation, despite the apathetic look on his face. “Don’t try to sugar coat it, cherie. We all know what I did was wrong, and we both know dat somet’ing’s gotta be done about it.”

                “Hank and Tony just want to run some tests. If we can see exactly what’s happening with your powers, they might be able to stop the acceleration.”

                “I’m not Scott. Dese powers were always mine, and they were always capable of dis. Only way you gonna shut ‘em down is to shut _me_ down.” He looked at her seriously. “You gonna let dem do dat?”

                She was startled at the idea, much less that he would ever suggest she would allow such a thing to happen. But she held herself in check. Remy was feeling cornered, trying to defend himself with callousness.

“Neither Logan or I would ever let it come to that.”

He didn’t apologize, continuing to stare out into the dark. “What are dey going to do wit Scott? Take ‘im away?”

“No. He’s confined to the lab for the time being. You can ask Hank the rest.”

Gambit tossed his gaze back towards the door and the men standing there, pretending not to watch him. He could feel their concern, their apprehension. Their emotions were clear cut in his mind, from Tony’s tension and eagerness to have him subdued long enough to study him without having to worry about defense, to Logan’s primal need to protect him and the growing frustration he had that LeBeau was refusing to allow him, to Hank’s quiet dread and uneasy conscience.

“I can’t go anywhere, can I?” he asked her, finally turning around.

“What?”

“If I left right now…how far do you t’ink I’d make it before SHIELD took me down?”

Now she was afraid. He was sounding too desperate, and when Gambit was desperate he was at his most reckless. “Not far. That’s why you’re not leaving.” She answered.

“Logan says we should run; get out of town until it cools down. But how long you’d t’ink it’d take for de Sentinels to come sniffin’ us out? I can’t ask him ta do dat. He’s safe here, wit you and de others. I won’t let him give dat up for me.”

 She leaned her shoulder against his and they let their heads fall together, staring up at the stars. She laced her hand with his. His skin was so warm in hers. “No one is giving up anything.  You and Scott are both going to be fine.”

“How, Stormy? How you gonna fix what even de Professor and Hank can’t explain?” he looked down at his hand, seeing the faint outline of glowing veins again and feeling the heat under his skin pulsing with ever growing energy. “Maybe dis is how it’s supposed to be…”

She didn’t say anything then, but he felt a spike of anxiety course through her at these words. “Sweetheart, you have to remember that this isn’t a natural part of your mutation.”

“Like Scott.”

She didn’t answer immediately, licking her lip. “Just let Hank and Tony run the tests. It’ll be over with before you know it, and Logan and I will be right here the whole time.”

“Don’t like bein’ poked at,” he muttered. He was growing more anxious just thinking about it, and the anxiety was only fueling the frustration that was boiling underneath. He could hear Tony and Hank unpacking items from the case, and glanced over his shoulder to see packaged needles, vials for blood samples, some sort of compact scanner with a wand and patches, and something odd and circular that looked like it was meant to fit over his head.

His stomach clenched and his expression soured. “No, I don’t want to do dis.”

Storm tried to keep him together, to turn his focus back to her. “Hank promised it wouldn’t be invasive. You need to trust us, Remy, please.”

“Something wrong?” Tony called, looking out at them.

“Dis de same sort of t’ing you did to Cyclops?” Remy demanded.

“Well, actually no. You get the abridged version, lucky you. Mr. Summers, considering he is currently host for a cosmic being, and also got shot, is getting the VIP treatment downstairs in one of the secure rooms. Looking for an upgrade?”

“Fuck you, Stark.” Logan hissed at him, and Tony shook his hands defensively.

“Alright, alright. Clearly not the moment for humor. Look, Hank and I have been over this thoroughly, there’s nothing here that’s going to do you any damage. You won’t even feel most of it, so don’t worry about it.”

“Why is dat?”

“Well,” Stark continued, still busy with his work, otherwise he might have picked up on ques that Remy was far too stressed for this. “I need you to be nice and relaxed so we can get some good, clear readings on your brain waves and that…power source or whatever that makes your powers tick. So I’ve got a little nightcap for ya. Works fast, and I won’t leave ya with a hang-over in the morning.”

“You’re not sedating me.”

Logan looked from Tony to Hank, as if demanding some sort of intervention, but McCoy seemed helpless on the matter. “It really is for the best. Your powers are stronger when you’re in a heightened state and I’m not sure the equipment can handle it.”

“I don’t give a shit. You’re _not_ goin’ poking around anywhere on me. I’m _fine_ …” his hands shook and he saw the veins glowing more clearly.

“Yeah, you’re not sweetheart. Mutant or not, it’s not normal for someone to become a living glow stick, and you are certainly on your way. Now come on, be a big boy would ya?”

“I said _NO_.” Gambit barked, slamming his fist into the wall near the door. The wood and plaster cracked and popped as hot pink sparks raced along it and the room itself rattled. Remy was shaking in the aftermath, and Logan moved towards him, taking his hand and guiding him towards the couch.

“it’s alright, darlin’.”

“Desole, I didn’t mean to,” Wolverine hugged him to quiet him, drowning out the rest of the shaky apology, and looked over the Cajun’s shoulder at the rest of the group.

“There’s got to be another way to do this.”

“I’m sorry, but there isn’t.” Hank replied.

“Alright, just…give us a minute.” Logan muttered, and Tony sighed and stepped aside, removing his gloves and picking up his phone.

“Fine, gotta check up on things are home anyhow. You’ve got fifteen.”

 

                Storm stepped aside to talk to Hank, who was looking equally anxious and frustrated, while Logan turned to Remy.  The Cajun was a shivering, nervous mess, reeking of fear scent and something hot and otherworldly that made Logan fearful.

                “Darlin’, look at me,” he cooed, “Breathe slow. It’s alright. Remember where you are. This isn’t Essex and his mad science. You’re safe,”

                Remy rocked back and forth, breathing shallowly and gripping his the sides of his head, twisting his hair harshly between his fingers, “Non, non…it’s too much, I can’t think, it’s all _too much_ I can’t breathe!”

                Logan held him tight. “I’ve got you darlin, stay with me. Remy, focus on me, stay with me.”

                “Logan, I can feel all of it…the fear, the anger, the paranoia. I swear to Jesus, Mary and de Saint’s I can feel Warren pacing, and _he’s two floors down_! I can’t make it quiet no more, and I’m so damn tired…”

                His mate dropped down in front of him, trying to bring him in close and let him focus on one person, one set of emotions. Remy linked with him quickly, but it wasn’t much of a relief. Logan wasn’t able to shield him from any of the negative feelings inside him at the time. He just hoped that the good ones would be enough to steady him.

                “Yer powers are getting’ stronger. It’s not a coincidence. Being around the Phoenix’s influence has done somethin’ to you, darlin’. We just need ya to recognize it. You gotta stay away from Summers now. Before things get worse.”

“Scott’s needs our help.”

                “That’s not on you anymore. You did the best you could, Rems. But the Phoenix ain’t something to be tamed; Scott can’t live with it. We’ve got to separate it from him.”

                “Indeed, and that’s a task I’d like to get back to quickly as possible.” Tony quipped up again, moving back towards them and looking at the pair expectantly. “Bedtime, pal. No worries, I’ll even let you have your cuddly feral boyfriend to snuggle with.”

                Remy didn’t look amused, and neither did Logan. “I told you to back off, Stark.”

                “Do you want to help him or not?” Tony asked bluntly. “Cause if you think you can coddle and kiss this away, then by all means show me the true healing power of love. But if you have a half a brain, I do think Stryker left you some, you’ll realize I’m here to help and stop throwing your weight around before SHEILD gets involved directly.”

                None of them cared for Tony’s veiled threat of force, but before Gambit was the first to answer. “I t’ink it’s cute dat you t’ink a SHIELD facility could hold me for very long.” He replied smoothly.

                Tony smirked, frankly relieved to hear this sort of comment from the Cajun. “Ah, there’s the confidence. But all bravado aside; you know I need to do this. A quick scan, some blood samples and you can get some well-deserved shut eye.”

                “Or, maybe, you take your little science kit and make yourself useful elsewhere.” Remy’s tone was light, but serious and Tony stood for a moment staring at him, then shook his head as if dazed.

                “Hey…hey, you stop that. I’m not going anywhere.” He looked hurriedly between the others. “Tell him to knock it off.”

                “What are you talking about?” Hank asked, moving closer now.

                “His-his, oh you know! The smooth talking, the eyes, the face, all the…the…ah hell you know what I mean.” Tony stammered, flustered and frustrated.         

                 “Cajun…” His dark haired lover looked at him suspiciously, but Remy shrugged him off, standing once more.                

“I’m not here to give you no trouble, Tony.” Remy purred, throwing up his hands and shrugging away. “Far be it for me to stand in de way of public safety. But, just out of curiosity, what is it you’re lookin’ for wit dese test you want to run? And what is it you’re going to do wit whatever you find?”

“Hopefully a way to stabilize you.” The billionaire answered.

“Mmm. What else?”

This made the others look on in surprise, especially Beast. “Remy, there’s no ulterior motive here—“ he began but Remy held up a hand and shushed him sharply.

“Dere is _always_ an ulterior motive.” He answered. “Spill it Stark.”

Tony seemed dazed a moment, then answered, “Stabilization is all I’m after. But if we can’t…we need to find a way to neutralize your abilities. And Scott’s. Possibly permanently. ”

The rest of the room fell silent, but Remy only smiled. “See? Dat wasn’t so hard.” He leaned over and kissed Stark’s cheek. “You go on back down to dat lab and work on helpin’ M’sieur Summers like a good boy. And you put dis idea dat you can ‘neutralize’ us out of your mind. I know it’s SHIELD puttin’ you up to dis, Tony, or I’d be much angrier wit you.”

 “I’m sorry,” Tony said, a little too sincerely, looking as if he were going to reach for Remy, only to have the Cajun catch his hand and shake his head.

“No need to grovel. Go on, get out of here. I don’t want to see you again until you got good news for me, n’est pas?”

Tony nodded and slunk away and no one stopped him, gawking instead at Gambit, who flopped down on the couch, kicking up his feet and reaching for a bottle of wine that was already sitting open on the table before taking a long drink.

Logan, Hank and Storm all exchanged concerned glances for a moment, pondering what to do next.

“Looks like your tests will have to wait till tomorrow, McCoy,” Remy called back lazily, without looking at him. “So you might as well run along and get some shut eye…unless dere’s somet’ing else you were wantin’ ta say?”

                Hank’s face turned scarlet beneath his fur and he glared back at the southerner.

                “You didn’t have to do that,” Storm cut in sharply.

                “Do what? Protect myself?”

                “You know that’s not what I meant.” She replied firmly. “Maybe Tony’s motivation is questionable, and that is why Hank has been supervising—“

                “Yet he seemed as surprised as anyone, maybe more so.” Remy cut in. “Or maybe you did know, Beasty. And you just had to make a choice.”

                “Gambit, stop it.” Logan warned. “Hank’s not like that.”

                Remy exhaled in deep frustration. “Oh Mon Dieu…have ya’ll gone spontaneously fuckin’ deaf? Did ya not just hear what Stark said?! That if we can’t be “fixed” den we need to be shut down? How am I still de one in de wrong here?!”

                “You’re not, but—“

                “But what?!” Remy exploded, “You got any idea what it’s like for me, holding back my powers all de time?! It’s like a pinched fuckin’ nerve dat never gets better…” he let out a hiss of breath in frustration. “Fuck me. I mean _fuck me_. I didn’t ask for dis “gift” ya know. Takin’ on someone’s emotions ain’t easy. It all gets so damn jumbled up, I feel like I’m fuckin’ drownin in it some days. The hurt, de neediness, de petty jealousies…all of it, oh God, ALL OF IT ALL THE DAMN TIME! And if dat ain’t de frostin’ on de shit cake, I get de _added bonus_ of dem wanting to crawl all over me, like I’m covered in cat nip! But if I ever turn it around on dem, den I’m just de fuckin’ devil, now aren’t I?”

                Wolverine came to stand in front of him. “You’re pissed. Ya got a right to be. But you also fucked up.”

                “How is dat anything new?”

                “Rems, stop it. This is me you’re talking to.”

                He moved closer to Logan, towering over him, giving him a look that quietly unnerved him as he pushed him back down in his chair, straddling him. “And you…mon amour…I have to be so careful. So, so careful, or else…I could have you snared as easily as breathin’.”

                “Remy,”

                The auburn haired man kissed him hard, gripping Logan roughly by the back of the head, his tongue conquering the other man’s mouth with surprisingly little resistance. He opened an eye and peered back at Storm and Beast, who were looking on in shock, and released his lover reluctantly. Logan gave a small whimper as he did, arms curling around the Cajun’s back, nuzzling his head into his chest, hungry for attention again, snared by Gambit’s rampant Charm.

                “Stop it,” Ro warned him. “Dammit Remy, you don’t need to do this!”

                Hank moved towards him, drawn up to full height, looking every bit the fearsome creature that was his name sake as he took Gambit by the shoulder and bodily pulled him away from Wolverine, knocking him against the book case.

Logan made to jump after them, but Storm pinned him to the spot.

“Mr. LeBeau,” Hank grumbled. “I think we’ve had enough of this for one evening. I need you to take back control of your abilities and realize that what I’m trying to do here is for your own good, as well as Scott’s! This has nothing to do with Stark or SHIELD. This is _me_ telling you that it must be done!”

Hank expect to smell fear coming off of Remy as result of his display of force, but instead the lanky southerner just smiled up at him and brushed himself closer. “Ah, finally…a hint of backbone from de great Dr. McCoy. Wasn’t sure you had one, cher.”

Remy’s skin was growing warmer by the second, and Hank could tell that his scent was off, and not just because of the Charm but of something else.

“Are you going to cooperate? Or am I going to have to restrain you?” he demanded.

Remy licked his lips in a way that made Hank’s knees go weak. “Oooh, Henry…restraints already…going right for the kinks den, are we?”

“Stop it.”

“How _do_ you like to fuck, Hank? I bet you’re a real old fashioned type…all soft and slow at first, shy even. But I bet I could get you warmed up quick…drive you into a frenzy before you even got those trousers off.”

Hank could feel the pull of his influence, intense and insistent, making him ache to do just what Remy was describing, not even caring that both Storm and Wolverine were watching.

Remy scratched the thick tuft of scruff on his cheek and drew him down closer against him, “Go on and tell me how you feel Hank. Not dat you need to say it. I can feel it comin’ off you like steam. You’ve been holdin’ back, I just got to ask myself why?”

“I’m not going to play into this game,” Hank muttered, eyes flashing. “this isn’t you. You’re becoming corrupted, just like Scott and Jean. And if this is what you’re truly like, Remy, if this is what you use your powers for…then I was deeply wrong about you.”

Remy gave him a deeply wounded look, and for a moment the spell was broken. Hank and the others felt the Charm influence relent and Remy was left momentarily winded. But there was no longer any doubt that intervention was necessary.

 “Cajun,” Logan grunted, “Yer gonna let Hank do those tests he needs.”

Remy didn’t answer, staring at the floor with his hair hanging in his eyes as Hank backed away. Wolverine attempted to move closer, despite Storm and Beast’s hesitance.

“I told you before, if Scott’s a sinking ship, I ain’t gonna let you go down with him. And if that means I gotta drag ya out of the water myself…I’ll do it.”

Remy’s head was buzzing, the sound growing louder and more painful and irritating by the second. But through the static he began to hear a voice that wasn’t his. At first he thought it was Scott’s, but it sounded strange.

_“Don’t let them. You can’t trust them. Scott needs you, Gambit. If you let them take this away, if you let them stop you now, he’s lost. And it’s your fault. All your fault. Fight back!”_

“Cajun. Come on now. No more stalling. It’ll all be over soon.”

Gambit looked at him steadily, then let his eyes shift from him to Storm, who was standing behind him.

“So dat’s how it’s gonna be?” he muttered.

“We love you, darlin’. We don’t want to fight.”

“Why?” the Cajun grinned, eyes turning again from ruby to magenta, the warm glow inside his veins appearing again, streaking up his arms and neck. “Afraid you’ll lose, mon couer?”

Both Storm and Logan took a step back in surprise as Remy moved forward, looking menacing and almost delighted by their startled reaction. “Ever occur to either of you dat maybe I ain’t as helpless as you like to convince yourselves? Dat maybe, unleashed, I could have all of you wrapped around my little finger…ya’ll never appreciate how hard I work to keep it back, how much I want to keep you safe from what I know I _could_ be, but it’s never enough!”

Hank’s arms were suddenly around Remy’s torso, gripping him hard arms pinned to his sides.

Gambit shouted and tried to wrench free, but Hank refused. “Storm! Get the case, the syringe--!”

The woman nodded, making a dive for it as Remy wrestled with Hank, thrashing and trying desperately to break the hold the man had on him, screaming and breathing hard as panic over took him.

“LET GO OF ME! LET GO!”

“Hank don’t hurt ‘im!”

Gambit managed to wriggle loose before Storm could reach them, singing Hank with the crackles of hot kinetic energy that were rippling off him. Logan tried to grab him instead and Remy shouted and slammed his fists into his chest, releasing a short but fierce charge that knocked the shorter man backward, flipping over the couch and decimating the table as he crashed upon it.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

Storm made a run for him, but he out maneuvered her, grabbing her arm and flipping her over onto her back, forcing her to drop the syringe and making her wince. Colossus came through the door then, already armoring up, looking around in surprise.

“What is going on--?!”

Gambit bolted, heading towards the open door to the roof again, and vaulted over the railing, making Hank and Colossus both cry out and rush the rail.

Remy was sliding down the roof tiles, nimbly landing on the eve a window below, before vaulting down another balcony ledge below until he finally reached the ground and took off at a run. Hank growled quietly and leapt over the side before Piotr and the others could call him back.

 

Gambit’s feet thumped across the grass, kicking up clots of mud as he ran. He could feel his body growing hotter and hotter from the inside out, the energy inside him buzzing in his brain and driving him closer to what felt like insanity. Storm had been right, something was very, very wrong with him and he knew it now but couldn’t stop. Everything in that room had been too much, everyone’s emotions battering his own, the worry, the disappointment, the suspicion…and then moment they had tried to force him into those tests…panic had overwhelmed him. All he could think of was Sinister, and the experiments he’d been coerced into. It didn’t matter that Hank was only trying to help, that there was no ill will attached. He had to get away.

He stumbled and sprinted his way through the dark trees, heading for the escape route he’d created in Hank’s security wall. He was almost there, only a few steps from freedom, when he heard Beast’s heavy paws pounding the earth behind him.

Beast made a leap and caught the other man, wrestling him to the ground with a thud. Gambit screamed and cursed him, tearing at his arms and hands, trying to break free, but Hank refused to let go this time.

“REMY! REMY STOP!”

“LET ME GO! GET OFF ME, DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Hank pinned him to the ground, turning him over to look at him in the eye. “REMY! I’m not going to hurt you! You have to _stop_! Look what’s happening to you!”

Breathing harshly, the Cajun continued to try to twist free of the stronger Mutant’s hands, only to notice how much the glowing veins beneath his skin had spread so that it had begun to look like his skin was cracking open, literally bursting with light.

The shock of it caused him to still at last, and Hank seized the only opportunity he might have and jabbed the syringe into Remy’s neck. The Cajun cried out in pain, but Hank withdrew, allowing Remy to move away from him, scrambling until his back struck a tree.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry I had to do that…please, try to calm down. The sedative will spread more quickly if you overexert yourself.” Gambit looked at him like a wounded animal and Hank hated it, for it felt like a knife twisting in his gut.  “Let me help you back to the house. Please. _Please_.”

Above them they could both hear the whirl of helicopter blades, and Hank shrunk closer to the ground, trying to avoid being spotted by them.

                Gambit shook his head slowly, but the world was already getting soft and blurry and his legs were too heavy to support him. But the light under his skin had faded, and the panic was seeping away as Hank moved closer. McCoy touched him, trying to bring him in closer out of the dirt, and Remy was immediately overwhelmed by the man’s feelings for him.

                “Let me take you home.”

                “Say it,” Remy muttered, looking up at him. He gripped Hank’s shoulder and pulled him down closer to him so that he could look him in the eyes, and McCoy was forced to hold him to keep him from dropping over like a stone. “I know how you feel about me, McCoy, it’s all over your face. You’re in love with me.”

                Beast’s mouth was dry, his pulse much too loud in his ears. “Please don’t,” he begged.

                “You love me. You can’t hide it, Henry. Not while I’m like dis. I can feel it all too well. But you won’t admit it. What’s wrong wit me, dat you don’t want to say it?”

                “Remy, you’re not yourself. I can’t have this convers—“

                “Shut up,” Remy grabbed him and kissed him. Hank gasped against his lips, and tried to pull away, but LeBeau held fast, showing surprising strength as he was growing more sedated by the second.

                Finally, Remy pulled back, his eyes were glazed by the drug, but they were also wet. “Oh…I get it. It’s not me. It’s de Charm…” tears spilled down his cheeks. “I’m so stupid.” He put his face in Hank’s chest as McCoy crouched there, frozen, unable to speak as he was still reeling from the kiss.

                “No! No, that isn’t it at all! I—“ the Cajun was heavy in his arms and Hank felt his fingers slacken against his fur. He clenched his jaw and hugged Remy tight to him.

                A moment later Logan appeared in the clearing. McCoy lifted his head and shuffled out from under the low-hanging branches and thick undergrowth and brought LeBeau to him. Logan took him anxiously and held him tight, concerned at the lingering discoloration beneath his mate’s skin.

                “Never seen ‘im like that,” Wolverine admitted, looking worriedly from Remy’s slack, muddy face back to Hank. McCoy was struck by the desperation he saw in his former lover’s eyes. “Can you help him?”

                Hank nodded, face sullen but determined. “I shall do all I can.”

               

**

 

                The sedative wore off quickly, because as the Cajun came to, he felt Hank pulling another needle for the tender back of his hand, swabbing the blood away and applying a bandage.

                “Ow…” he mumbled.

                Logan moved beside him and shushed him as Hank removed what felt like sticky patches from his chest and arms in swift, silent succession. Remy tried to sit up, but felt immediately nauseated and so at once sunk back into the mattress with another quiet groan. Logan’s hand was in his hair, and Storm’s long fingers were tangled with his.

                He opened his eyes, but the world was a dark blur, and he shut them again quickly. Vaguely he heard voices talking above him, but couldn’t make the words come together in his mind. It didn’t seem to matter though, as sleep was far more appealing.

                Falling further asleep, he felt like he was sinking and the blankness of his thoughts was comforting for a time. He needed to shut down, turn off the over stimulation brought on so easily by his abilities. It was bliss to feel nothing at all for once.

                But it ended sooner than Remy anticipated. But not by wakefulness. On the contrary, Gambit had never been quite so aware of being…well…unaware. That he was dreaming, or otherwise outside of his present reality.

                The black sea of silence he had immersed himself in felt like thick, warm water all around him, but it was carrying him off somewhere. And then, quite abruptly, he was somewhere else. Lying in the sand on a pebbly, lake side beach, with the mid-day sun glaring down on him overheard, warming his skin and making him wince faintly.

                He sat up, even more curious to find that he wasn’t wet at all, and that he was fully dressed, though the clothes were plain and unfamiliar to him. He turned around, looking behind him to see a grassy hill, and just beyond that a house, surrounded by trees.

                “What de hell…?”

                Gambit had never seen this place before, yet it had an odd note of familiarity. He heard shuffling footsteps beside him in the sand and turned, to find Scott standing there holding out a hand for him to take.

                “Hey there, stranger.”

                Gambit yelped and withdrew, scrambling up and nearly falling flat on his ass in the water again, staring at the man in confusion.

                “Whoa, whoa, easy! It’s okay, Remy. There’s nothing to be afraid of in here.”

                “In here?” LeBeau repeated, feeling more confused than ever. But as he took a moment to asses his surroundings again, he began to understand. “Am I in your mind? Or are you in mine?”

                “Neither, exactly,” Summers answered, bending down to pick up a stone and skip it across the bright blue water, watching it fade off into the distance before sinking. “It’s more of a…collective space. Some people call it the Astral Plane, some people call it Mind Scape…it’s my psyche and yours connecting in the in-between of reality.”

                “Dat sounds crazy.”

                “We’ve both seen crazier things.” Scott answered. Remy couldn’t exactly argue him that. So he moved forward, reaching out to touch Summer’s bare, tan arm and finding it real and solid. The sensation was all the more confusing. “Feels real,”

                “Of course. It’s all connected to the sensory nerves in our brains. But senses can be fooled. It’s still just an illusion.”

                “So if dis is just a dream or an illusion or some weird ass out of body experience…where are we den?”

                “I’m in the lab. I suspect you’re somewhere in the house, asleep.”

                Remy struggled, but his memory felt jumbled and full of holes. He vaguely remembered Hank, Logan and Storm, and argument and running in the dark. He remembered being angry, very very angry and hurt but before he could focus on why, Scott had pulled his attention back by taking his hand.

                “Come on, lets go up to the house and dry off.”

                Remy followed, letting himself be pulled along by the other man. As they came up the dirt path from the beach to the house, Remy couldn’t help but notice how bright and picturesque everything was. And as he looked on at the scenery he recognized the same mountains he had seen in Scott’s memories of Anchorage. This place must be constructed from that same memory.

                They stepped inside the dark red painted front door, which was an odd stark contrast with everything else that was softer and brighter. Remy felt a faint, uncomfortable thrill run through him as he lingered a moment at its threshold.

                But Scott’s fingers gave his a squeeze and the feeling was swiftly forgotten as he was pulled inside.

                The scene changed again.

                The inside of the house, which was nice but modest looking, had suddenly transformed into the very familiar foyer of Xavier’s. But the colors were all wrong. There was no dark, polished wood, the old ornate wallpaper or stained glass windows. It was all very neutral and clean looking, without much character. Almost like a mock-up of the original.

                Scott continued to lead him along, and Remy watched as the hall bled into another large room. If they were truly in Xavier’s, this would have been one of the large common areas that Charles called the reception room, but instead, Remy found himself walking into a large, immaculate bedroom, with narrow, floor length windows that were cracked open, letting in a breeze and the sound of the city outside.

                Remy didn’t understand, as he let go of Scott’s hand and moved to inspect it closer. The view beyond was distinctly dark and urban, and abrupt change from the mountains and lakes outside the front door. As he stared at the buildings, he couldn’t even pin point his location. Was it New York? London? Tokyo? It looked to be a conglomerate of so many places…

                He tried to reach a hand outside the door, but Scott called to him.

                “Sorry, that’s where the line ends I’m afraid. If you break through the barrier, we might be exposed to the space outside.”

                “Is dat bad?”

                “It’s not _good_ ,” Scott answered. He sat down on the edge of the large bed, patting the seat next to him, but Remy didn’t follow immediately. He was starting to feel like this place was oddly familiar, though not in its exactness but in the _feel_ of it. But right now he couldn’t place the feeling, no matter how he tried.

                “Why are we here?”

                “I needed to get us to a space place. Charles can’t pry his way in here, even if he tried. Neither can Betsy.”

                “Dat’s certainly somet’ing. But what ya trying so hard to hide from him?”

                “I should have told you before, but I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me. I don’t know who to trust, Remy and you…you’ve been so good to me. Despite everything. I didn’t want to lose that.” He thought for a moment, “I’m sure you’ve guessed by now that what they’re all thinking is true. That I possess the Phoenix. It’s part of me now.”

                Remy nodded quietly.

                “Charles is afraid. He couldn’t control the Phoenix, and he couldn’t contain it. He tried both with Jean and it drove her insane. It wasn’t her fault you know, I don’t want you to think that. Whatever her faults, Jean was a good person. We were the ones who failed her, not the other way around.” He stood now, starting to pace, absently examining the little trimmings and trappings he had filled the room with; pictures, flower vases, books that lined large shelves. He stepped over to a shelf and tapped the speakers on, filling the space with music.

                “Scott, Charles loves you. I’ve seen it, I’ve _felt_ it. If he’s afraid for you, it’s because he believes you’re truly in danger.”

                “Do I look like I’m in danger?”

                “Looks are deceiving. We both know dat.”

                Scott moved towards him, easily putting his arms around him and pulling him against him. Remy put his hands against his chest to try to push back, give himself from leverage.

                “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Remy. Ever.”

                Gambit remembered abruptly how many people had promised him that, even recently. He thought about Hank and felt unexpectedly breathless, like he could cry. He almost didn’t notice the way that the room around them reacted to this, the lights becoming dimmer, suddenly shedding a pale blue cast instead of a warm yellow one.

                Scott leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It’s ok. Forget about them, forget about all of it. They can’t hurt us in here.”

                “But they aren’t…”

                “They forced you to do something you didn’t want, that you expressly said _no_ to. They don’t trust your judgement Remy, just like they don’t trust mine. They’re afraid of us. It’s either fall in line behind Charles or suffer the consequences. I understand now why Raven and Erik left him all those years ago. Once Xavier has decided something, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

                Gambit pulled away and the room became darker still.

                “Stop. Dat isn’t you talking. It’s the Phoenix.”

Summers glanced at him, and Remy sensed something moving beyond their sight, an awareness that was trying to close in around the protective bubble that Scott had created around them.

“No, it isn’t.” he replied, quite seriously. Remy felt an ache for him, sensing the deep betrayal he felt by Xavier’s actions. By everyone’s actions, truly.

“Dis place you’ve made…I know you t’ink it’s better in here, but _life_ is out _dere_. Not in here. I’ve tried Scott, everyt’ing I know how to help you and bring you out of dis, but I failed…” he looked around at the room. “Whether or not you believe you can control dis power dat Phoenix has given you is no longer de point. We don’t care how powerful you are, we just want our old friend back. Dat is all anyone wants.”

“I don’t know who that man is anymore. I can’t go back to being the old Scott, any more than you can go back to being the man you were before Sinister. We’re changed people, sometimes others aren’t going to understand. Sometimes you have to _make_ them,” he paused, collecting his thoughts and then began again. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This isn’t your fight.”

                The door to the room, previously shut, clicked open softly. “You can go.”

                “What about you?”

                “It doesn’t really matter. I’ll be fine. You’ve already done more than enough for me.”

                Gambit looked at the door, knowing he should take his chance while he had it. He didn’t trust this place, not entirely, and the longer he stayed the less he felt sure of the way back.

But he didn’t leave. Instead he sighed and turned back to Summers. “Dis is about ten kinds of bullshit. I’m trapped in some damn dream bubble, talking to a grown ass man who doesn’t want to admit that being possessed by the same thing that killed his girlfriend _might_ be dangerous.”

“So leave.”

“If I do, I’m afraid I’ll never see you again. And dat’s just somet’ing I’m not willing to live wit.”

                Scott said nothing to this, looking at the floor, seeming both touched and confused at the same time. It became clear that Scott no longer recognized the care and concern of others. He really did believe he was alone and hated.

                It was a feeling an Empath like Gambit couldn’t ignore. Being as closely connected as they were now, the drive to ease the other man’s suffering overrode everything else. He moved towards the man, put his hands to his head and pulled him in close, looking at him seriously. “You’re a jerk, Summers.”

                Scott laughed and smiled. “But you like jerks.”

                “Don’t rub it in.”

                Scott leaned in and kissed him on the lips softly. Remy pulled back, though he didn’t move away entirely. “Scott, no. I don’t…”

                “Please,” the brunette moved in and kissed him again, more intently this time and Remy gripped his arms, ready to push him back. But found almost instantly that he couldn’t. There was such a rush of feeling then that Gambit was almost immediately overcome by it. All of Scott’s desperate need to be loved, accepted, his drive to prove himself worthy in the eyes of others, all the love he’d had for Jean and Logan that had been discarded and rejected, and now refocused itself on the man he thought was his only compatriot in all this mess.

                He came up for breath with a gasp, visibly shaking as he stared at Scott, and found that they had somehow made their way to the bed. “Remy, I love you.”

                “Mon Dieu, _don’t_ …”

                There were no more barriers between the two of them, and he knew Scott could see his mind, his thoughts, everything open and exposed. Remy had an impulse to run, to escape, but Scott was right there beside him, arms around him, kissing his cheek and neck.

                “Please don’t be afraid. You don’t have to hold it back, not in here. In here it’s just us. Out there doesn’t matter.”

                Remy nodded vaguely, putting a hand in Scott’s short brown hair and pressing him harder against his skin so that Scott bit him lightly, earning a little moan in return. The room in front of him was shifting vaguely, changing by degrees. For a moment it looked more like his old bedroom in New Orleans, then like Scott and Jean’s old room, and so on and so on. But the scenery outside the windows never changed.

                The Empath struggled to remain in one piece, but he felt his feelings become enmeshed in Scott’s until the lines between them were blurring. This was dangerous territory for both parties as either could be lost if they weren’t careful.

                Scott’s hands were under his shirt, laying him back on the mattress as they kissed and fondled each other, slowly becoming undressed. The light in the room had shifted from blue to deep purple.

                “It’s a dream…” Remy mumbled, Scott’s mouth moving down his chest. “It’s not real. It’s a dream.”

                It felt real. Better than real.

                With his powers this uninhibited everything was more intense. He felt that vague haziness he had before, the last time he had found himself in this same vulnerable position with Scott. But his mind couldn’t quite make that connection, it couldn’t tell him to stop. He wasn’t even sure he really wanted to.

                Remy thought about Logan, and Ororo. He thought about how much he loved them, and how he wished this feeling that was consuming him was coming from them. He needed to find a way back to them. He wanted to wake up, but the more his mind struggled towards consciousness, the more resistance he felt.

                He thought back to the fight in the room when he had struggled and fled, he thought about Storm and Logan trying to catch him, restrain him, force him down. He shook his head with a whimper, Scott over top of him.

                “You don’t have to think about that now,” he cooed, hands gliding down Gambit’s side, over his hip and sliding across his thigh, making him shiver as he rocked against him.

                “They didn’t want to do dat,” Remy mumbled, trying to keep his head above the haze that was filling it and keep Scott’s hands from distracting him, though it was a losing battle. “They thought you were hurting me somehow. Dat you did somet’ing to make my powers like dis.”

                Scott looked down at him and smiled sweetly, “I would never hurt you.”

                Remy seized up, momentarily finding Scott’s image replaced by Hank’s and the wave of overwhelming feeling that rushed through his chest made him feel like drowning. He tried to twist free then, but Scott caught his hands above his head and laid across him, trying to steady him.

                “Hey, hey…it’s alright. Remy, it’s alright.”

                Remy didn’t struggle in his hands, but struggled to breath all the same. Hank. Why did thinking about Hank hurt so much? Why did the idea that his Charm was responsible for the feelings he felt from the feral Mutant tear up his insides? Why did he care so damn much?

                Scott kissed him again and Remy gave over quickly, wrapping his arms around the man and pulling him flush against him, rolling his hips against his and causing heated friction there. Scott sighed against his mouth and curled around him tightly.

                They were both naked now, Scott over top of him, rocking against him slowly, kissing him everywhere while Remy’s hands roved across his warm skin, making him tingle and shiver. Scott was drunk on all the little sensations of it, the closeness and the heat, hearing each little breath and feeling another pulse echoing his.

                Sex with Jean at times had been sweet, but reluctant, any moments of passion they managed usually tainted by their own struggles with opening up completely to another person. Sex with Logan had been carnal, angry and desperate. Scott finally allowing himself to be unrestricted, but in a way that was too much. A way that was damaging and unsustainable.

                But Remy’s power allowed him finally to find a balance between these two extremes inside him. He could be passionate and dominant without being rough or forceful. He could let go and be open and vulnerable, and know that his needs would be met and make it easier to see what his partner wanted as well.

                Scott grabbed Remy’s thigh and lifted it higher over his hip, allowing the man to spread his legs more so that Scott could touch him there. He wanted to be inside the man desperately, but as he moved his fingers lower, Remy grabbed his wrist and moved it back to his cock, shaking his head. “Non, not yet…” he panted.

                Scott groaned softly in disappointment and attached his teeth to Remy’s nipple, sucking and biting hard so that the Cajun groaned and arched closer, circling his hand tighter around Scott in response. Remy grabbed the back of his hair with his other hand and pulled him back, looking down at the faintly red teeth marks the man had left in a circle around his nipple.

                “I want you,” he rasped. “I’ve wanted you for so long, I can’t wait anymore…”

                Remy just pulled his head back a bit further to expose Scott’s neck, licking along the long column of it before leaving a small, sharp bite below the corner of his jaw that instantly bruised. “Convince me.” He replied, looking at Summers with dark, gleaming eyes that challenged him to overcome his will.

                Scott all but growled in anticipation, pushed the  man back hard into the mattress before leaning down and kissing him roughly, stealing his breath for several long seconds before moving down, raking his nails lightly across the tan southerner’s skin until he was positioned between his legs.

                Gambit playfully tried to push him back with his heel, but Scott held him down by the hips and lowered his head, forgoing the teasing build up and moving straight into engulfing his cock, sucking hard. Remy yelped, hips bucking as he tried to brace himself.

                “Ahh! Ah! Haahaahhhh, Scott too much!” he hissed, but the other man just rubbed his hands against his thighs and over his lower stomach, feeling the shivers beneath the skin, trying to even out the stimulation.

                LeBeau twisted in the sheets, panting and mewling and trying to gain leverage, but Scott’s hands held him firmly in place while he tortured him with his mouth, bringing him abruptly close to the edge of a harsh orgasm before withdrawing.

                He laid there wide-eyed and shivering as Scott moved further up his body, grinning, still holding him down, kissing along his torso lightly. “Ready for more?”

                Gambit cursed at him and tried to push him back down to finish the job, but Scott wouldn’t budge, instead grabbing his hands again and flipping Remy over onto his stomach, closing one hand firmly but not harshly over the back of his neck to keep him from moving.

                “I’m getting impatient,” Summers muttered. “Aren’t you?” he reached between his thighs and squeezed him hard, and Remy wailed against the blankets, shivering.

                “Ah fuck! Dammit, Scott…”

                The man was rubbing himself against him and Remy shivered, digging his fingers into the blanket as he felt a little thrill of fear rise in him. _“It’s not real, it’s just a dream. It’s not real, it’s just a dream…”_

                Scott’s other hand grabbed his ass cheek hard as he started to push against him and Remy whimpered, closing his eyes, thinking about Logan. Scott pushed forward, hard and deep and he felt a groan pushed out of him that was deep and shaky. For a dream, the sensations were extremely real…

                Summers gave him a moment to catch his breath, moving the hand from his ass to his back, stroking the sweaty skin and trying to ease the shivering. “God…you feel so damn good…”

                _“I want to wake up,_ ” Remy thought, though his body was all too ready to submit to whatever Scott wanted. The man behind him drew back slow, then pushed forward again and he cried out again, sinking his teeth into his knuckles in an effort to control himself.

                His partner felt hot against and inside him, and the hand at the back of his neck that kept him down almost felt like it was burning him. The same odd sensation began to grow in his own chest as Scott fucked him from behind, going slow but hard. He felt bizarrely lighter, less tangible and anchored to any sort of reality. More proof in his mind that this was not happening, that he was somewhere else…

                But Scott seemed to sense his attention drifting. He pulled back, leaving Remy shivering and exposed and flipped him back over onto his back, turning his face towards him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

                “I don’t love you,” he mumbled, dazed and out of breath.

                Scott blinked but shook his head, “That’s not true, Remy. You can’t lie about what you feel in here. I know you love me.”

                “Not like dis,” LeBeau answered, “Not like I love dem. I’m sorry…it’s not your fault.”

                Scott frowned and Gambit saw his eyes change from blue, to red, to fiery gold. A shift had occurred, subtle but very real. Scott now bent over him with a predatory air that made Remy’s heart race.

                “Let me change your mind.”

                He leaned over and kissed him again, and for an instant Remy felt like all his senses were utterly overloaded, his mind overwhelmed. Thoughts of what was beyond this room, his partners, of Hank, of all the fear and uncertainty that was waiting for him in reality were banished in a burst of heat and light. There was nothing but this room, nothing but Scott, nothing but a hunger for sex that hadn’t yet been slaked.

                Scott pulled back and put his hand firmly against Remy chest and collar bone, while the other push his legs up and apart again, quickly thrusting inside him again. Remy groaned and gasped, body pliant and eager to be used up.

                Around them, unnoticed by either, the light of the room slowly rose from deep violet tones into hoter, brighter, more saturated red hues. Scott was lost, consumed in this new blissful state, where he felt the weight of the world shifted from his shoulders and yet more powerful than ever. The Phoenix had twisted its way into his thoughts, becoming so tangled that it was hard to tell one’s desire from the other’s. But Scott no longer feared or resisted it. After all, it had given him exactly what he wanted.

                “Scott! _Scott!_ Nnnnhhh…ha…ah! Sil te plait, _please…_ aah!”

                “Do you love me now?” Scott purred, rocking into him harder and deeper, knowing Remy was on the edge of release.

                The Cajun was open mouthed, rasping for air, barely coherent as his mind was being overwhelmed as quickly as his body. He picked up the pace again making Remy scream.

                “Scott! SCOTT!”

                Cyclop’s hand moved from his chest to his throat and Remy looked up in shock, wrapping his own hands around his wrist. Summer’s eyes were gold and bright and the room behind him seemed to shimmer like it was burning.

                “Say it! Why won’t you say it!” Scott twisted and twitched inside him, arching in orgasm, his hand squeezing around Remy’s neck briefly as he crashed against him spasmodically. It all it hit then and Remy felt his whole body shake.

                _“SCOTT!”_

               

                The name was still on his lips as his body jerked violently and he tried to pull away, only to feel a very different hand pushing against his chest.

                “Hey! Hey, it’s alright!”

                Remy looked around wildly, feeling the bed beneath him, but slowly becoming aware of a different face leaning over him. Logan’s hands, rough and thick, swept across his face, pushing his damp, sticky hair back and trying to calm the tremors.

                He grabbed at him, not sure he was real. But the thick, solid muscle under his hands seemed to confirm that he was.

                “Shh, darlin’, it’s alright. You’re alright…” Logan assured in his soft, rumbling tones that already began to put the Cajun as ease. Beneath his palm he could feel Remy’s heartbeat pounding like a drum as he struggled to calm his breathing. “It was just a bad dream. You’re safe.”

                Vision clearing, clarity returning, Remy gazed in exhaustion around the room to find that he was back in the attic, and that it was still dark, but the soft light outside the windows indicated sunrise was not far off.

                He ached, and his skin was shivering and drenched in cold sweat. For a moment, he still felt the bruising fullness of Scott inside him, and wondered how time could have passed so quickly and how he had gotten here from…wherever he was. The more reality settled in, the more the details of everything else began to dissolve.

                “Remy, look at me.”

                Blinking, his eyes found Logan’s blue ones. The man looked worried and remorseful, and expression that Gambit hated to see on his mate’s face. He reached up to touch him and felt an ache in his hand, noticing the new bandage. He vaugley recalled the needles, and the sick feeling of anesthetia.

                “I think you had a bad reaction to those tests. Try not to move around too much. You’ve been squirming and sweating for awhile now. I’ve called Hank, but I can’t get him to answer…didn’t want to leave you alone.”

                “Where’s Ro?” Remy croaked, voice dry and shakey, like he had been screaming.

                “She went with Beast, probably to give Stark and Banner a piece of her mind to choke on after all this fucking mess. I’m so sorry, darlin’. None of us wanted it to happen like that, but you were…”

                “Not myself…” Remy nodded. He tried to sit up, cringed as he felt bile rise in his throat, and then again when he felt that his underwear was stiff and sticky…

                He flushed with embarrassment and pulled the blanket further over his lap. Wolverine hadn’t said anything, but Remy was sure he was able to smell it.

                “How do you feel now?”

                “Pissed at you…” he muttered, “but more sick den anyt’ing. I need a shower.”

                His lover nodded and tried to help him up and but Remy waved him away. “I’m alright. Just need a minute to get it together. Dat okay?”

                Logan nodded again, giving no indication that he suspected what Remy was thinking about, or what he must smell like. He stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower, wiggling out of his damp and soiled clothes and kicking them into a corner. He paused for a moment to examine his skin, half expecting to see bruises and fingerprints, love bites and welts.His cock felt sore and was still half hard, having spent itself all across his lower stomach and thighs. But there was nothing other wise to prove he'd been in the middle of savage love making. Of course there was nothing. It had been a fever dream, brought on by whatever Hank had drugged him with.

                The thought of Hank made his guts twist and his eyes water. He remembered the man’s lips on his. He loved that feeling. He hadn’t known he would crave it afterwards. Stepping into the shower he let himself sink down onto the floor, the hot spray pounding down on his head and his back while he tried to catch his breath and ease the phantom aches in his muscles.

                Fuck, he was so messed up. He had two people who loved him so much, whom he’d do anything in the world for, even _die_ for. So why was he thinking about Hank? Why couldn’t he be happy with what he had, why was it never enough?

                _“This is why people hate you. This is why people don’t trust you. You’re never satisfied. You’re greedy, feeding off whatever people feel about you. You want to take all that love for yourself. No wonder you are the way you are. Bobby was right about you. So was Hank. Your Charm’s warped you.”_

                He was sobbing under the spray, hoping the noise would drown out the sound. It didn’t though, and Logan was soon standing in the room.

                “I’m fine,” Remy muttered, unconvincingly. “Got damn soap in my eye.”

                “Wow,” Logan pulled back the door and crouched down beside him. “That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

                Remy laughed in spite of himself. “Sorry. Guess I’m losing my touch.”

                Logan took his hand and helped him out, handing him a towel. Remy was grateful that his lover didn’t try to make any advances just then. He was feeling much too raw to handle it. The feral kept a respectful distance as Remy dried and dressed himself, but Gambit could sense he was anxious to ask him what was bothering him. His empathy was still running on high, and there just didn’t seem to be a point in trying to keep it down.

                “Can I ask you somethin’?” he asked.

                “Shoot.”

                “Much as it pissed me off, I get why Ro got upset about what happened wit Scott. Especially since she never been in a relationship like dis one before. But you…why aren’t you mad?”

                Logan looked at him evenly. “You mean jealous?”

                Remy inhaled, knowing his lover had seen right through to his real intent. “Oui.”

                The other man shrugged, “Jealousy nearly destroyed us before, Cajun. I know I may not seem the type, but I do actually learn my lesson sometimes. Besides, like I told you before, none of that was your fault. You were both manipulated.”

                “You never asked me if I enjoyed it.”

                “Did you?”

                Remy didn’t answer. The dream was fading, but parts of it were still resonating throughout him. “I make people fall in love wit me. Den I fall in love wit how dey feel about me. Dat’s a sick cycle, ain’t it?”

                “That’s not what you do, darlin.”

                “Oh, now you know me better than I do too, huh?” he snapped. Logan’s eyes widened, but he didn’t press the matter, waiting for Remy to calm down.

                “Desole,” he amended after a second. He felt that strange heat beneath his skin again, but luckily this time it was not accompanied by glowing veins that seemed to crack and splinter his flesh. “I don’t know what’s wrong wit me.”

                Logan wrapped his arms around him, silently offering his support.

                “Bobby t’inks I’m leading Scott on. I’m startin’ to believe he’s right. Dat I just went and made everyt’ing worse.”

                His mate grunted, but turned the man to face him, guiding him into a chair so that they were closer to face to face, Logan being so much shorter than him. “Scott’s hang up with you is his own issue. I been on the receiving end of those feelings, believe it or not. And I know the guilt you’re probably feeling about it. Let it go. You know your intentions, LeBeau. Don’t let others convince you otherwise.”

                “How’d you get to be so wise, cher?”

                He laughed at the idea. “I’m fuckin’ old. And I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” Logan answered, kissing his forehead. “I’m up, so I’m going to go down and see how things are progressing with Summers. And maybe take a bite or two out of Stark and Banner myself for lying to us. But you look like you need a week of sleep. Why don’t you head back to bed?”

                Gambit shook his head, knowing he wouldn’t sleep. “No use. T’ink I’ll take a walk, shake it off, oui?”

 

***


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

**

                They parted ways with a kiss upon reaching the main level, Logan heading for the lower levels containing Hank’s lab and the War Room, while Remy headed off towards the gardens.

                Once he was out of Remy’s sight and the smell of him had faded into the distance, Logan turned his focus on the matter at hand. He was _done_ doing things Charles’s way. He had tried finesse, he had tried standing aside. All it had done was bring this team to its knees and he was sick of it. No more dancing around the problem. If the Phoenix had taken Scott, Logan was going to drag it out of him. Like he should have done from the very beginning.

                He entered the secured lab with a snarl. “McCoy! Where are you? We need to talk.”

                Hank was not immediately in sight, but Stark was. The Avenger was pouring over some sort of print out, looking racoon-eyed and tussled as if he hadn’t been asleep at all that evening. He reeked of stale coffee and freshly applied deodorant.

                “Wow, do you guys always just storm in on McCoy like this? Can’t imagine how he ever gets anything done,” Tony muttered in surprise upon seeing Wolverine.

                The short, dark haired man grabbed him by the front of his shirt and flung him up against the wall, pinning him there so that his toes didn’t quite touch the ground.

                “Holy shit you are _strong_!” he wheezed, feeling his back throb. “What did you do, eat a whole barrel of spinach before you came down here?”

                “Shut the fuck up,” Logan growled, “unless you want me to get _really_ pissed.”

                From further in the lab, Bruce emerged, looking startled. Tony looked hurriedly in his direction, eyes wide. “It’s okay! It’s okay,” he gasped hurriedly. “We were just having a friendly conversation, right?”

                Logan’s eyes shifted towards Banner and he knew exactly what Tony was worried about. Indeed, what Banner must have been worried about too, for he looked very wary. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

                “Yeah. I’m sure Logan just wants to talk. Right?”

                With a grunt, Logan dropped Stark, looking away from Bruce. “Don’t think you’re off the hook just cause you brought your pet monster with you.”

                “I heard that.” Bruce called.

                “Good!” he barked back. “Both of you shits got some explaining to do. Now I give the Avengers a lot of credit for what you’ve done, but when you get it in your heads that you can just waltz in here and do whatever you please just cause Fury gets _antsy_ around us—“

                “Look, I know what happened last night looks bad,”

                “You’re damn lucky LeBeau kicked you out when he did, cause if he hadn’t, you’d likely be in traction. You arrogant little son of bitch. You’re more like your old man every day.”

                Now it was Tony’s turn to look angry. “Watch it.” He muttered.

                “Fellas,” Bruce said, attempting to keep his voice even as he approached them. “Let’s all take a breath. Before we all get out of hand.” He looked nervously at his watch, which wasn’t a watch at all but rather a monitor gauging his heart rate, blood pressure and any spike in radiated cells within his body that caused him to turn from Bruce to Hulk. “Logan, we had no intention on acting on Fury’s plans. That was a worst case scenario idea, and we are not at that point.”

                “What if I don’t believe you? I can sniff out liars, you know.”

                “What you believe doesn’t matter, it’s a fact. Right now, we’ve got Summers sedated and under control. We’ve built a containment chamber for him to keep his powers from expanding while we figure out how to extract the creature possessing him.”

                “You’ve done what?”

                Logan pushed past them and moved further into the lab, finding Scott just as Bruce described, contained inside an entirely enclosed capsule, probably not much different from what they had used to revive Steve Rogers when they brought him out of the ice. But seeing Summers incapacitated this way immediately sent his teammate further on edge. It felt too eerily familiar; a bad memory of Weapon X.

                He put a hand on the glass, but Scott seemed dead to the world. “McCoy could not have agreed to this,” he muttered.

                “Hank seems to understand how dangerous he is,” Tony answered. “I know it seems extreme, but it’s for protection. His and ours. We needed to isolate him before he can drain anymore energy from your beau.”

                “What?”

                “I’m afraid that’s what has been causing Remy’s enhanced abilities. Scott, or rather the Phoenix, has found a way to tap into Gambit’s kinetic energy source and has been feeding off it like a battery.” Bruce explained.

                “Then why is he getting stronger? Shouldn’t draining his energy make him lose his abilities?”

                “You would think,” Tony replied, “ ‘Cept LeBeau’s energy core is constantly recycling itself. It never runs down—perfect for our celestial body snatcher. But while the energy core doesn’t break down, the rest of him _does.”_

                “Meaning what?”

                “Potentially, Remy’s physical body could be burned up by the constant stress of his expanding abilities. His body would break down, leaving only the kinetic energy source.”

                “It’ll kill him.” Logan said gravely.

                “Well, sort of. I theorize he’ll be reduced to an energy being, with the power of a small sun. The Phoenix could feed off and consume him for centuries before he would implode on himself…” he stopped, glancing up at Logan’s blanched, angry features and Tony shaking his head, trying to get him to stop rambling.

                “Sorry,” Bruce amended softly.

                “But that’s just a _theory_ ,” Tony said hastily. “And we’re prepared to stop the Phoenix before it can get a chance to turn your boyfriend into an all you can eat buffet.”

                He led Logan away from Bruce and Scott towards a large work table, with something that looked like a large, hand-held canon was lying. It was glowing with the same sort of blue-white light that was contained in Tony’s reactor core.

                “You think this hunk of junk is good enough to take on a world-eating firebird from space?” he quipped, looking at the inventor beside him.

                Tony looked slightly insulted. “Hey, I’ve taken on space aliens before. Besides, between myself, Bruce and McCoy, I think we’ve got a solid chance here. I’m just hoping it won’t come to that.”

                Wolverine didn’t say anything and Tony and Bruce looked pensively at each other for a moment. “So…how’s LeBeau doing anyway?”

                “He had a rough night.”

                “Well…Hank gave him something last night that should stabilize the process that Scott started with his powers. Give him a few days, he should be back to his old self.”

                “Hey, fellas…” Bruce called suddenly, calling their attention back to Scott’s containment pod. “Something’s happening.”

                Tony strode in front of Logan, coming to stand beside Bruce was they looked over the monitors connected to the outside of Scott’s tube. “Heart rate rising, brain activity is going nuts…”

                “Up the sedative,” Tony suggested.

                “I’ve already given him the maximum dosage,”

                “So give him more.”

                “That will put him in a coma, Tony—“

                “Not my biggest worry right now—“

                Logan watched warily as the glass surrounding the pod began to shudder and shake, and the monitors began to spark and short circuit. Even the metal screws embedded in the unit began to glow hot red.

                Wolverine grabbed both Banner and Stark and yanked them away from the pod just as the glass exploded outward, throwing them both to the floor as alarms began to sound and oxygen hissed loudly.

                He braced himself, claws drawn as Scott pulled himself slowly from the unit. The man, naked and trailing wires and I.V. cords, looked at him with a bone-chilling sort of amusement as he stepped fully from the destroyed pod, not caring that the glass on the floor sliced his feet.

                “Hello Wolverine.” he said, eyes lighting up with golden fire.

                Logan bared his teeth, watching as the air around Scott grew more solid, turning black and adhering to his body, creating a solid black suit, embellished with flaming red armor that rose across his shoulders and sloped down his chest, creating the firebird emblem there. His visor reformed across his face as well, gold and red, but Logan could see his eyes staring him down through it, ready to attack.

                “Did you miss us?”

                Logan could hear not only Scott’s voice, but also Jeans and the Phoenix’s own otherworldly tones speaking now.

                “If you know what’s good for you, Slim, you’ll back down right now.”

                Scott fired at him, and missed by inches, leaving a long, searing line across the floor that continued to burn afterward. Behind him, Tony was scrambling into position, his suit swiftly assembling around him, while Bruce lay inert behind him, having been stunned when Logan had thrown him clear.

                “Or you’ll do what? Little man…” Scott’s smile widened as he moved closer, hovering a few inches above the ground, flames beginning to lick at the edges of body. “You think those claws frighten me?”

                Logan felt his arm jerked abruptly to the side, willed by another force and driven back to stab himself in the chest. He bellowed in pain as blood bloomed across his chest and back as Scott made him stab himself, once, twice, three times before releasing him.

                He waivered unsteadily for a moment, his healing factor already working it’s magic, the pain already subsiding. There was a strange sound behind him as Tony fired off one of his stun beams from his hands, striking Scott and sending him wheeling back as he pelted him over and over again in quick succession, until the man crashed against the wall and collapsed, smoking from the impact.

                “Get Banner and get out of here, I’ll hold him off.”

                But no sooner had he said this than Scott lifted his head and let out a screech that was more like a deafening roar and fire burst forth, hitting Tony hard and sending him spinning back. The flames ripples across the room, causing things to burst and melt, small explosions erupting everywhere. Logan had managed to cover Banner, but his back was raw and blistered.

                He dragged Bruce and Tony towards the door of the secure area and tossed them through, slamming the lock on the four inches of reinforced steel and bullet-proof glass that separated them.

                “You idiot! What are you doing!?”

                “Get out of here, warn Charles and the others! Get the kids out! I’ve got him!”

                “You’ll die!”

                “Wouldn’t be the first fucking time, just go!”

                There was another burst of flame and Logan narrowly avoided being burned alive by it, turning with a scream and setting upon the figure who had risen to the middle of the flaming, smoke-filled room.

                “GOD DAMMIT SCOTT, IF YOU MAKE ME KILL YOU, I’LL NEVER FUCKING FORGIVE YOU!”

                He dove for him, managing to catch him across his chest with his claws. But they made little impact. Logan was stunned at how solid his armor was, considering he had materialized it out of thin air. But it did bring Summers down, even just for a second. He turned to fire an optic blast towards him and Logan cracked him hard across the visor with his fist. It shattered under his hand and Scott fell aside, crashing into the ground.

                Logan dropped, choking on smoke and being overwhelmed by heat. His hands and feet were burned and bleeding, and the thick chemical smoke had nearly blinded him. But he wasn’t finished, his body racing to repair the damage.

                The sprinklers above them finally kicked on and a hail of cold water rushed down on them, putting out part of the flames and dousing the air. Coughing and hacking, Logan stumbled blindly towards where Scott had fallen.

                “Come on Summers…you never go down this easy. Fight back, don’t let it—“

                A hand seized his throat and squeezed hard, choking off all of his air. Scott rolled to look at him, easily lifting the three-hundred-pound man from the floor. “The only person I have to fight is _you_. You and Xavier and all his lackies…you’re all so small minded. So afraid. Just like the pathetic Humans who are afraid of us.”

                Wolverine clawed at him, but Scott deflected the attack and threw him, sending him crashing into the already burned and ruined equipment. Logan felt hot metal sear his skin, glass and twisted metal plates cut through his insides as he crashed to the ground. Pain overwhelmed him and he struggled to stay conscious as his healing factor worked overtime to compensate for the damage.

                “I gave you a chance. All of you. And this is how you repay me!” Summers bellowed at him. “This world is broken! Stagnant, languishing! We are the next step, we are _what should be_! But instead…instead we grovel at the feet of oppressors and we beg for small mercies, when we are due the world. I can’t stand by and watch it anymore. The balance needs to be corrected.”

                “Who are you…?” Logan gurgled, “ to decide? Yer nothin’ but a parasite drunk on Human experience…”

                “I am _fire_ and _life_ incarnate—now and forever! **_I AM PHOENIX!_** _”_

                A concussive wave erupted from him then, and the room shuddered and went utterly dark save for the few small fires that were burning themselves out and the glow of Scott’s body. The emergency lights kicked on slowly, and Scott lowered himself back onto his feet, staring at Wolverine, who was either dead or unconscious in front of him. He scanned his mind telepathically and found minimal brain activity. For the moment, at least this threat had been neutralized.

                He turned and started towards the door, which he was able to pry free from the hinges almost effortlessly, tossing it aside. On the other end of the secure lab lay Tony and Bruce, who had like wise been affected by his attack, the pair lying inert on the floor.

                Scott side-stepped them without another thought, moving back into the hospital area and the main room beyond. There was no sound of alarms, no call for attention or evacuation. The school remained unaware of what was happening. Which was precisely what he needed now.

                As he made for the entrance that emptied back out into the main house, his armor and bodysuit shifted, the un-stable molecules around him rearranging themselves back into regular clothes. He needed to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

                This early in the morning, he passed no one as he moved about, his mind reaching out trying to locate his objective: Gambit.

                Remy wasn’t in the house, he was somewhere outside, and not alone. Scott felt a small thrill of frustration, realizing he was going to have to lure the other man away somewhere that they wouldn’t be interrupted. Logan wouldn’t be down for long, and soon Xavier would become aware of his presence. He needed to act quickly.

 

**

 

                Gambit headed towards the sun room with its wide French doors and floor length windows, which opened up onto a wide veranda that lead into the flower gardens that ran along the right wing of the school. It was just becoming light outside, and the dawn was hot, full of pink and yellow light as the cool shade of the evening rapidly receded.

                Stepping outside he was startled to find he was not alone. McCoy, looking exhausted and disheveled, Ororo and Bobby were all gathered there, talking quietly and seemingly anxiously among themselves. They all stopped and stared at their teammate the moment he made himself known.

                Storm stepped from the group and moved towards him immediately, putting her long arms around his shoulders and kissing his stubbly cheek. “Good morning,” she cooed, sounding both relieved and tentative at the same time. “How are you? You look much better.”

                He removed her arms from him lightly and stepped back to look at them all again, “Dunno. How am I supposed to be?”

                The other three X-Men cast nervous and contrite looks at each other. Storm spoke again, keeping close to him. “Remy, please try to understand—“

                “I understand dat I got out of hand. But maybe if ya’ll had been straight forward wit me in de first place, instead of keepin’ secrets, it wouldn’t have gone down dat way.” He looked hard at Hank.

                Bobby stepped up beside the doctor and scientist, coming to his defense, “Hank only did what he had to.”

                LeBeau glared at him, “You stay outta dis, you weren’t even _dere_!”

                “Last night was an utter disaster,” Hank opened, “I take responsibility for any distress it caused you. It was never my intention to put you in that situation. Please, forgive me.”

                Remy said nothing, holding Hank’s gaze for a long moment before lowering his eyes to the ground. He thought about their kiss again and felt another spike of anger run through him. “I trusted you.”

                “You can _still_ trust me,” he insisted. “Remy you’re…sick. The Phoenix has done something to destabilize your kinetic energy source. Your powers are expanding rapidly, too rapidly for your body to adapt. If the tests we ran are any indication, further prolonged exposure could cause irreparable damage. It could even be fatal.”

                “Scott hasn’t done anything to me,”

                “God, you still don’t fucking get it!” Bobby erupted then. “I told you, I _told_ you that being around you was messing him up! That your Charm had a bad effect on him, and I was right! In a way…” his face flushed hotly as he spoke, feeling his emotions boiling too close to the surface. He had spent the night, sleepless and terrified for Scott but unable to see him. “You were trying to fix him, I get it, but it didn’t work! Being around you has just made that thing inside him grow stronger and now we may lose him altogether! Are you happy!?”

                “Bobby that’s enough!” Storm shouted, and Ice Man’s face turned more red and he shivered, nerves rattled from his outburst. “This is no one’s _fault_ , neither Remy or Scott could have seen this coming!”

                “Don’t fuss, cherie.” The auburn haired man beside her spoke calmly, softly. “Let him get it all out. He been walking around here for days and days, burning up inside over all dis, accusing me of t’ings I ain’t done, calling me all sorts of t’ings. No need to hide it, mon frere. Say it loud and proud! Remy LeBeau ain’t nothin’ but a dirty whore!”

                Bobby’s eyes widened at this, shocked by the cavalier statement and even more so by the almost manic gleam in LeBeau’s eyes as he said it.

                Ororo tried to reign him in, but Remy shrugged her off. “Oh don’t look so shocked, Drake. You act like nobody ever call me dat before, but people been callin’ me dat since I was a kid. And much worse, I might add. So forgive me if I don’t take it too personally. See, I know what I am. I know what I do to people. I know what I done to Scott, even though for the life me, I tried not to. And you’re right. It ain’t fair, cause I don’t love ‘im. But you do.”

                “Yeah. And you knew it. You knew it way before this ever happened, but you wouldn’t back off--!”

                “Don’t blame me cause you lack a spine.” Remy hissed, eyes flashing. He didn’t notice that hands were hot again. “Don’t you dare. I tried to do you what was right by him and by you, but whelp, guess I can’t blame de man for wantin’ someone who stands up for demselves and doesn’t fucking tear others down out of jealousy. You been at my throat over dis non stop, never once considering dat I was as uncomfortable wit his infatuation as you were!”

                “I…”

                “But non, it’s easier to paint Scott in dat golden light of sympathy, cause you love him. I understand, Bobby, I do. You needed someone to blame, and you don’t know me half as well as anyone else. And I am just so… _very good_ at what I do.” His voice became a little lower, a bit more sultry and Bobby shivered in spite of himself, feeling the pull of that Charm. “I bring men and women to deir knees. Make dem fall all over demselves for me. Cause I’m a whore, right, Bobby? A slut. Just like you said.”

                it was clear that the younger X-Men was finally realizing how horrible he had sounded, and how much it had actually hurt Remy. With Gambit’s empathy now running almost unchecked, it was the first time he had been able to see through the fog of his own problems and realize the impact of his actions. Bobby felt small and petty and sick with himself. “That’s not fair,”

                “Neither is life, sweetheart. Grow up.”

                “Leave him alone,” Hank joined in then, taking Remy’s shoulder and pulling him back from Bobby. “You two can’t keep fighting like this. Mistakes were made—“

                “Like the mistake _I_ made, Henry?” Remy snarled, shaking free from his paw. “Letting Scott fuck me?”

                “Remy!” Ororo cried out, trying to stop him.

                “No, Ro! I’m tired of dis!” he snapped back. “I got a damn right to defend myself! I’m tired of takin’ it on de chin, tryin’ to be de bigger damn person! I’m tired of forgivin’ everyone for hurtin’ me and gettin’ _nothin’_ back!”  he turned on McCoy again, who was rooted to the spot. “You only started blamin’ me for what happened dat day when I _defended_ Scott. When I told you dat he did nothin’ wrong! _He didn’t!_   You decided then and there dat I wasn’t as much of a victim as you built me up to be and boy did dat throw you for a loop! It made you mad, didn’t it Henry? It made you jealous…I came waltzin’ into your life out of nowhere and I took Logan. Den I took Ororo. People you loved. People you _still_ love,”

                “No more, Remy—“ Hank pleaded, feeling his emotions reaching a breaking point. Gambit was arbitrarily exposing his most private thoughts and feelings to the world, under scrutiny of some of his closest friends. He was wounded, raw and vulnerable. And getting angry.

                But it was too late to stop. Gambit was like a run-away train, being consumed and driven by his empathic feedback, which was already over whelming him. The more emotional Hank became the more Remy was fueled, the feelings coming so fast they were difficult to process and ended up just spewing forth without a filter.

                “You _wanted_ me. You saw what we had together, you saw what it was like and you felt _so_ lonely, so damn lonely you couldn’t stand it! But you thought you weren’t good enough for me. For us. And dat was fine by you, until Scott happened. Den you couldn’t stand it. Because Scott didn’t want me like you did, Scott didn’t love me like you did and you weren’t going to sit by and watch it happen all over again---“

                “STOP IT!” Hank roared.  He grabbed Remy, lifting him from the ground by the front of his shirt and shook him. “STOP IT! SHUT UP!”

                “HANK LET HIM GO!”

                Remy’s eyes were full of tears but his face was still twisted in anger. “You are a such a fuckin’ coward, McCoy, you should be yellow, not blue.”

                Hank struck him across the face and Gambit went down hard, blood pouring from his nose and his lip. Above him Beast shuddered in shock and Bobby grabbed him, pulling him away.

                “Calm down! Holy shit!”

                Ro knelt beside Gambit, scooping the stunned man up in her arms. “Bobby, get Hank out of here. Go find the Professor, we all need to talk.”

                She took off in the air, taking Remy with her.

                Hank was shaking visibly, looking completely stunned, staring at his hand which had a smear of Remy’s blood across the knuckle.

                “Hank…?” Bobby lead him inside, but he didn’t make it far past the doorway before dropping down and just sitting there with his head in his hands, whimpering miserably. “Oh dear God in heaven what have I done…what have I done?”

                “Hey…hey it’s okay,” Bobby tried to console him, deeply alarmed to see Hank, who was like an older brother to him, this distressed. “Things…things just got out of hand. We all got out of hand. God, what is wrong with all of us?”

                Hank didn’t answer and Bobby moved closer to him, putting his arms around the big blue man.

                “We fucked up royal, McCoy. You and me. But we can make it right…can’t we?”

                “I don’t see how, Bobby.”

                The younger man couldn’t argue there, things looked bleak. He nuzzled Hank’s mane of hair and rubbed his back. “We’ll figure it out. We’re X-Men, right? We fight sometimes but we don’t give up on each other. And if you love Remy like he says you do…maybe that’s what you really need to tell him.”

 

**

                Storm carried Gambit around the building, doing her best to put stance between them and her teammates as possible. Upon landing, Remy immediately squirmed away from her, still trying to stem the bleeding from his nose.

                “Are you through?” she asked breathlessly, caught between incredulousness and fear as she looked at her partner. “I’ve never seen you so _vicious_. What you said to Hank—“

                “Did you know?” Remy muttered.

                “What?”

                “Did you know? How he felt about me. Did you know?”

                Storm paused and slowly shook her head, folding her arms. “I suspected, but it wasn’t my place to ask. Hank attaches to others easily, but he tries to keep a professional distance. He doesn’t want to ruin friendships by acting impulsively.”

                “That’s bullshit.”

                “Not all of us can be as open as you about our feelings, Remy.”

                “Oh fuck you,” he spat.

                She stilled for a moment and then glared darkly. “You will not speak to me that way. The only reason I’m not going to black your eye for doing so is because you are clearly in not in your right mind.”

                He didn’t answer her, feeling sick and shaky after the upheaval of emotion he’d just been through, especially having not been at all prepared for it. His nervous system felt overloaded and he just wanted to go some place where he could work out this residual rage without affecting anyone else. And he could think of only one place to do that.

                She tried to hold him, but even her closeness was too much right now. “Please,” he gasped. “Please cherie, I can’t…desole, I just can’t…leave me be, let me t’ink.”

                She hesitated a moment and then nodded. “Alright. But you can’t leave the grounds. And you shouldn’t be around the students right now.”

                “I won’t be.” He moved towards the house again. “I need to work dis energy out.”

 

                No one else was in the lower halls as Gambit headed towards the Danger Room, where he felt he could finally expel the pent up energy without tearing down anyone else. He just hoped that he didn’t run into Charles or one of the Avengers along the way.

                He was almost to the door when he came across Jubilee and Kitty, who seemed to have an early morning workout session in mind as well.

                “Hey there,” Jubilee called, momentarily relieved to see the man, whom she had last seen huddled among a pack of frantic X-Men and Avengers the evening before. But her relief soured quickly when she saw his expression. “Wow. Rough morning?”

                “Not now, petite.” He muttered. He made for the door when Kitty moved forward.

                “Um, we signed up for the first session today, sorry. But you can join us if you want,” she offered.

                “Afraid I have to insist,” he replied, slipping through the door hurriedly.

                “Hey! Gambit, you can’t just—“

                “Leave him be, girls.”

                All three turned to see a surprising face standing in the doorway, smiling calmly at them.

                It was no small surprise to see Cyclops standing there, looking as at ease and casual as if it were just another Tuesday at the mansion.

                “Scott,” Kitty was the first to speak, while both LeBeau and Lee were struck mute for the moment. “I—I thought you were in quarantine, resting.” She eyed him nervously. “How’s your shoulder?”

                Scott rolled it with a shrug, “All better it seems.”

                “How is that possible?”

                “Hank works wonders, doesn’t he? Or maybe I’ve collected a little bit of healing mutation myself.” He looked at them all and chuckled quietly. “Wow, don’t look so nervous guys. It’s just me after all.”

                “Sorry, it’s just…”

                Remy stepped up as Jubilee grabbed Kitty’s hand and pulled her back next to her.

                “Give us a moment, will you, girls?” the Cajun asked, his anger momentarily overridden by shock.

                He gave Jubilee a sly, side-long glance that she noticed at once and quickly ducked out of the way with Kitty, not looking back. Scott watched as they vanished down the hall way and then looked back to Remy. “You look like you’ve had a rough night.” He smiled softly and moved his hand towards Remy’s cheek to brush away a stray hair, and Gambit jerked back from the touch.

                The ruby-eyed man eyed the other silently for a moment, feeling a chill run through him at Scott’s words. “Why do you say dat?”

                “You look tired is all. And…what’s this?” a bruise was beginning to form under Gambit’s eye where Beast had struck him, and his lip still bore the bright red split from it, stinging faintly. “Awfully early for a scuffle, isn’t it?”

                Remy turned away hurriedly and made for the doors leading into the Danger Room, grabbing his equipment from the locker and vanishing into one of the stalls to change. “Don’ worry about it,” he called, trying to keep his racing thoughts and new found nervousness in check. He couldn’t be sure that his mind was safe from something as powerful as the Phoenix, even with his ever expanding energy, but for the moment he sensed no attempt from Scott to intrude.

                He emerged in his combat gear, staff in hand, to find Scott had changed as well.

                “Dis is a solo practice,” he muttered. “Maybe we spar next time, oui.”

                “No worries, I already reset the program. Something new I’ve been working on.” He smiled again as the door scanned them and opened, allowing them to pass into the large, cavernous room inside.

                Remy stormed after him, grabbing his arm and turning him around. “I didn’t ask you to do dat. Please, Scott, I need to be alone—“

                “They got to you, didn’t they?”

                “What?”

                “Beast and Wolverine. They finally convinced you that I was bad news, hmm?”

                Above them, the A.I. voice counted down until their training sequence began. Gambit was still staring at Cyclops, who simply stood at ease, hands folded behind his back.

                “No one _got_ to me. What’s wrong wit you?”

                “Absolutely nothing. Not anymore.”

                The lights flashed and flickered, the air rushed around them and a few seconds later, they found themselves standing in a new environment, one Remy had never sparred in before. It wasn’t an urban landscape, or even something as bizarre and savage as a space craft or the Savage Lands. It looked just to be wide open piece of farm land, with thick corn rows at his back, and a dirt road leading down towards what looked like an old abandoned barn, with lingering rusty equipment discarded outside in the overgrown grass. It also appeared to be an night-time exercise, as the artificial sunlight was already at the setting point, creating eerie deep shadows from the fields and the few trees that surrounded the derelict building before him.

“What is dis? Not one of Hank’s programs…who we fightin’?”

                But as he turned, he saw that Scott was gone. He clenched his jaw and held his staff tighter, taking stock of the large stretch of open ground he would have to cross before he got to any sort of shelter. Everything was quiet, except for the rustle of air through the corn behind him.

                “Alright. Fine. I’ll take de bait,” he muttered, moving forward down the dirt road. “But dis conversation ain’t over. And by the way, fearless leader, you’re supposed to let your team mate KNOW if we’re going to split up…”

                His eyes probed the shadows for signs of movement, expecting any moment for a Sentinel to come bursting out of the ground, laying waste to the pastoral landscape around them, or for Avalanche or Toad to come charging out at him from the corn field.

                But nothing seemed to move, except for him, as he moved further and further down the path. Gambit had the distinct feeling of unease in his stomach, like he had been dropped into a horror movie, knowing the bad guy was in the house, but unsure where to run.

                A crow sounded off, startling him and causing him to discharge a card towards the field, which erupted in a bright pink explosion, sending clods of soil and charred corn stalks everywhere as a flock of birds rose above him, fleeing the scene.

                “Oh come on!” Remy snapped. “Spare me de suspense and get on wit it already!”

                Something heavy moved in the twilight behind him. Remy turned, but saw nothing. He could hear breathing, heavy and muffled somewhere in the shadows. But everywhere he searched, he could see nothing. Whatever was stalking him must behind the rows of corn, as it was the only place it could possibly find shelter.

                He could run now, try to draw it out from its hiding place in pursuit. But he had no idea if something else was waiting for him in the barn beyond. Maybe this thing was trying to herd him towards it, waiting for him to fall into a trap. And there was still no sign of Scott.

                “No good choices,” Remy muttered. “Sounds like my life. Alright, den, come on and show your pretty face ta Remy. So I can bash it in…”

                Something moved, fast and hard through the stalks, but did not rush at Gambit. Instead it moved away. He pursued it, staying outside the line of the field rather than be drawn into the labyrinth of stalks that already stood higher than his own head and become lost.

                Whatever it was, it was big. It broke down three and four plants at a time as it ran, and Remy could hear how hard it was breathing. Maybe it wasn’t one of the other Mutants at all, maybe it was a creature, some sort of monster. That would indeed be something new.

                Gambit charged another card and threw it ahead of where he guessed the fleeing creature would turn next, watching as the explosion made a sizable crater in the earth, showering them in more soil and ruined corn.

                Shaking the dust and dirt from his head, he waited, looking around. No sound, no movement. Tentatively he approached the scorched place and saw the evidence that his predator had indeed been heading right towards the spot of the explosion. But there was no sign of it. And no tracks either.

                “Dammit Scott, where are you? You’re about as helpful as a screen door with a hole in it—“ he turned away and felt his breath catch hard in his throat at what was staring back at him from just a short yard away.

                No monster. No robotic killing machine. Nor even one of the ‘evil’ Mutants.

                Logan looked back at him in the dark, still and silent and smug. But it wasn’t _his_ Logan. The man before him was something born out of his deepest nightmares, his greatest horrors, locked far away in his memory. It was Wolverine as Sinister had dreamed, if only he could get his hands on the man.

                Gambit felt sick and numb, feet suddenly too heavy to move. “What…?”

                “Hello, darlin’. Didn’t think I’d forgotten about you, did ya?” Logan grinned, but didn’t move towards him. Instead, he just let his claws slowly reveal themselves, the faint sound of adamantium brushing together before sliding through easily opened flesh sending a sick chill down Remy’s spine.

                Logan motioned him forward. “Come give me a kiss,”

                “PROGRAM PAUSE!” Remy shouted, suddenly finding his voice.

                The world around him froze and left Gambit standing there struggling for breath. “SCOTT! SCOTT WHERE ARE YOU?!”

                Cyclops appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, approaching him from side.

                “What’s the—“

                Gambit whirled, grabbing his teammate by the front of his uniform and shaking him hard. “WHAT DE FUCK IS DIS!?” he pointed to Wolverine.

                “The Danger Room is capable of creating any number of scenarios. Including those where our team mates might turn on us.”

                “Bullshit,” Remy sheathed, feeling heat rising in his skin, the bright magenta color returning to his eyes. “No one, _no one_ knows about dis…” he looked again in horror at Logan and felt like he was going to vomit. Instead he pushed Scott away angrily. “You got into my head…into my memories. You saw what Sinister put me through, what he wants to create, and you go and do _dis!?_ ”

                “I needed you to see the truth. The reality of what Logan could all too easily become. Of what he already is.”

                “How _dare_ you! How dare you do dis! I trusted you Scott, I vouched for you! I’ve taken de burden dat you put on me ever since Jean turned and dis is what I get?! FUCK YOU!” He pushed him again and Scott let him, not seeming a bit put off by outrage, which only infuriated Gambit more. “You had no right! _No right_ to go through my memories like dat! To take those t’ings and use it to manipulate me! You were supposed to use dese powers to help people, to help your team but you are too consumed by your fuckin’ hatred of Logan to pull your damn head out of your ass!”

                “You’re angry. Good. Use it.”

                He was shaking and as he looked down he could see the light under his skin again, brighter than before, and he could feel it hot in his chest, racing up and down his torso, zig-zagging down his thighs and splintering across his cheeks.

                Frightened he dropped back, wrapping his arms around himself as if trying to keep himself together. “Mon Dieu what are you doing to me?”

                “Doing what Xavier and Essex both failed to do for you. Show you your real potential.”

                Scott’s uniform suddenly started to burn away, revealing the black and red suit that he had formed around himself instead, with the blazing crest of the firebird across his chest. With the ground scorched under his feet, he simply grinned and lifted into the air as the environment around them shook and suddenly returned to motion.

                Remy turned just in time to see Sinister Logan making a rush at him, which caused the Cajun to shout and grab for his fallen staff, striking the man hard and fast in the chest and managing throw him back a few feet. But the shorter, stronger feral didn’t relent. He redoubled the attack, surging forward with claws ready to eviscerate the other man.

                Gambit swung and spun his staff violently, but it couldn’t do much to hold him off, and the relentless assault was already testing the staff fighter’s strength. He couldn’t hold Wolverine off at close range—he had to get distance and gain the high ground. In a risky move, he withdrew his weapon, allowing Logan to surge forward. His claws missed ripping through his ribs by inches as Remy whirled nimbly away, falling into a hand-spring, striking the shorter man hard in the chest and sending him backwards on his ass.

                Gambit flipped, rolled and ran, sprinting hard and fast towards the barn. “Danger! Emergency shut down! Discontinue program, call for emergency back up!”

                _“Request denied, all emergency functions have been discontinued by primary controller.”_

                “Override the command then! Abort mission, abort!”

                _“Request denied, all emergency—“_

“I heard you the first fuckin’ time!”

 

**

 

                Ororo hurried to regroup with Hank, Bobby and Charles, hoping that Remy was contained in the moment within the Danger Room. Watching much of her own previous mental and emotional stability mirrored back at her through her lover was sobering, as was watching Hank make the same painfully mistake with Gambit that she had.

                But despite how jarring it was to see LeBeau’s emotional instability, it wasn’t the matter that needed addressed first. Whatever attempt Stark and Hank had made to stem the acceleration of his powers wasn’t enough. They were going to have step things up, begin a more aggressive intervention, before something catastrophic happened.

                As she walked, she began to hear a persistent, violent banging sound, mingled with grunts and groans and the obvious animalistic roars of Beast. She took off at a run, making her way towards the sound to find McCoy and Bobby viciously attacking the door to the secured lab, which somehow had become melted shut.

                Charles was beside them, eyes closed, focusing. “Mr. Stark, Mr. Banner and Logan are all inside. The Avengers are unconscious and Logan…I’m not sure, but there is a great deal of distress.”

                “What about Scott? Wasn’t he in there too?” Ice Man asked anxiously.

                Xavier shook his head slowly, “I don’t sense him.”

                “What the fuck does that mean!?”

                Hank had dented the door, warping it and the few cracks he had met let out the clear smell of smoke and acrid chemicals. “We have to get in there!!” Hank bellowed.

                Bobby nudged the larger man aside, his body taking on his full ice form as he turned his powers on the damaged door, freezing it solid within a matter of minutes.

                “Now Hank!”

                Beast hurled himself through the rigid wall of frozen metal, like a football player going in for the charge, and the whole thing shattered into pieces under the force, breaking across the floor below.

                Inside the room was filled with lingering smoke and the nearly overwhelming smell of burning chemicals and machinery. The group gagged on it, sloshing through the nearly exhausted spray of water from the sprinklers above. While the safety measure had managed to keep the room from burning down completely, it also served to make navigating it more difficult, causing thick clouds of steam.

                Storm summoned a breeze to help dissipate it as Bobby moved forward, putting out fires wherever he found them. They were quick to stumble upon Tony and Bruce, and Hank lifted both men anxiously and ushered them outside as Munroe and Drake pushed further into the ruined facility, looking for Logan and Scott.

                They met with the secured door dividing the area, and through foggy glass they could see some movement, but the room was too dark and cluttered to make out what.

                “Get it open, Bobby.”

                Ice Man didn’t have to be told twice, setting his hands on the thick, reinforced panes and letting them frost over, steadily becoming solid ice as before. But before he could finish, the door gave a hard jerk to the side, making both of them gasp and step back.

                Three long blades appeared through the gap that was created, followed by burnt and bloody fingers. They heard a shuddering roar and the door was pushed off it’s hinge, warped and broken. Logan stumbled forward, skin raw and burned, half of his hair gone, blood staining his clothes.

                “Jesus!”

                Storm pushed past Bobby’s startled figure to grab the man who appeared on the edge of collapse. But he didn’t fall into her arms. He grabbed hold of her instead, bracing himself, turning to look at her stunned face as his vision started to return from the chemically induced blindness.

                “Where is he?” he gurgled.

                “Who?”

                “Summers…it’s got him. Where is he?!”

                Ororo and Bobby maneuvered him out into the corridor, Bobby nauseated as he watched Logan’s fourth-degree burns heal themselves, watching new skin and muscle knit itself together over wounds.

                “Oh God Logan, that is so gross…”

                “Shut up, kid.” He muttered.

                They brought him out in the clean air of the hall, where Hank immediately tried to assist him, but Logan waved him off. “It’s fine. Where’s Summers?” he demanded again.

                “We don’t know,” McCoy replied anxiously. “The last I saw he was heavily sedated, contained, he shouldn’t _be_ anywhere, he shouldn’t even be conscious! Could someone have—“

                Logan shook his head. “It’s got his claws in deep now. I’m not sure if Scott’s still in there at all. We gotta find ‘em. Stop ‘im before it can fry up anyone else.” He was fully healed now, and he shrugged out his bloody and charged shirt, tossing the rags to the ground as he shook ash and debris from his hair. He looked to Charles. “You find him?”

                “The Danger Room.”

                Storm seized Logan’s wrist. “Gambit’s in there.”

 

**

 

                Remy had made it to the barn by a narrow margin. He had laid down a hefty volley of explosive charges behind him as he ran, which sent the soil bursting from the ground, raining down behind him like thick clouds. Sinister Wolverine must have been caught in one of the detonations, because Gambit couldn’t hear his breath right behind him, or the heavy thud of his footfalls.

                Inside the deteriorating structure, he pulled down the heavy latch across the doors and fastened the thick chains around it with a rusty pair of pad-locks. Of course, that wasn’t going to keep the other man out for more than a few minutes. It was only a momentary road block.

                Inside, the barn was dark, save for the little bit of twilight that was seeping through the holes and knots in the old wood, and the gaps in the roof where shingles had gone missing. There were stalls where animals had been kept, thick bales of hay stacked almost to the second story loft, rusty tools scattered here and there.

                The doors behind him shook and rattled violently and Remy stifled a yelp, grabbing a pitch fork and making for the stacks of hay, scrambling up the bales until he reached the second floor. Looking back however, Wolverine didn’t emerge through the shaken doors.

                Remy heard him snort like a bull and move away instead. He swallowed a shivering breath and settled back in the dark, submerged in shadow. The wicked doppelganger of his mate was going to try to take him by surprise. But it wouldn’t be easy. The Cajun glanced around at the loft, finding more stacks of hay, some discarded, rusty old animal traps, and even two canisters of gasoline, presumably for the overgrown tractor outside.

                _“What kind of Children of de Corn set up is dis shit?”_ he wondered.

                He kept himself down, almost flattened to the floor, listening hard. He could hear the wind rustling the rows outside, the faint knock of the barn doors. No sign of Logan, or Scott for that matter.

                It was a trap, of course. They were trying to draw him out, knowing he had nowhere else to go. They figured the anxiety and the anticipation would get to him first, causing him to give away his position.

                But an old swamp fox like himself knew better. He could out wait them. Even the Danger Room had a time limit, a fail-safe, designed to keep its combatants from over-extending and exhausting themselves in sessions, leaving them vulnerable. Run down the clock. Survive until the system shut itself down and he could escape. That was all he had to do.

                “It won’t be that simple.”

                Startled, he sprang forward like a frightened cat, grabbing his staff and taking a vicious swing at the man who had appeared behind him. Scott caught the staff in his hand and brought it to an easy stop before it collided with his face.

                “This isn’t Essex’s facility. No one is watching us, no one is coming. You have to face this foe on your own, Remy. What are you going to do?”

                “First,” he muttered, “I’m gonna knock some damn sense back into you!” With Scott still holding his staff, he sprang into a roundhouse kick, which caught the man in the chest and knocked him back, freeing Remy’s staff. Before he could recover, he pelted Scott across the face, chest, and shoulders, trying to beat him down, to knock him out. Without a conscious host, Remy might gain some leverage over the Phoenix’s manipulation.

                But while he was busy with Summers, he hadn’t heard Sinister Wolverine creeping up on them. Gambit only caught a glimpse of the claws and the bright red diamond seconds before he pounced. By the narrowest of margins, the Cajun avoided being stabbed and thrown to the floor, instead letting Logan fly over his head and crash into wall full of more rusty, discarded tools. Gambit kicked the animal trap towards him, and as the feral turned to pounce again, he set it off, causing the gaping metal teeth of it to clamp around his leg. He howled and raged, prying it off of himself and mangling his flesh as he did so, not caring. But in his distraction, he didn’t see Remy come at him with a pitch fork, which he ran the man through with, pinning him to the wall.

                The Sinister version of his lover twisted and writhed, trying to break free, but unable to, and began to weaken, just as the real Logan would, under such a wound. Remy felt like he was going to vomit again, growing pale and shaky listening to the way his skin squelched and tore against the rusty prongs. Sometimes the Danger Room’s details were a bit much.

                He sunk back, trying to catch his breath as Logan stilled, for the moment incapacitated until his healing factor fully compensated.

                Scott moved behind him, but made no attempt to attack. A small grace Remy was all too grateful for in that moment. “Even at his worst, even like this, you still can’t bring yourself to do what must be done. That’s sad, Remy. Even when it comes down to you or him, you still choose him.”

                “Fuck you. What would you know about any of it…” the Cajun muttered. “Computer, mission complete. End program.”

                Nothing happened. Gambit cursed, trying to pick himself up. “It’s over. What else do you want from me?”

                “I want to free you.”

                “I’m not a fuckin’ prisoner, Scott. You are.”

                For a moment, he thought he saw new recognition in the other mutant’s eyes, as if he had reached him, as if he understood. The real Scott Summers was still inside there, somewhere. But the moment passed all too quickly and Scott reached out and seized Remy.

                The contact was like a hefty shock, a momentary electrocution followed by an extreme pull of energy from his own body. Gambit felt and saw himself momentarily light up like a bright pink nightlight, and in the process he felt himself unwillingly linked with Scott’s mind again. Or rather, the Phoenix’s. It was a shock to the system—seeing a momentary glimpse of galaxies and universes far beyond his imagining, worlds being born and then being devoured by the Phoenix’s endless hunger. A jumble of memories, Scott’s and Jean’s flashed in front of him, filling his head with voices that weren’t his. He pushed it away violently, forcibly breaking the link.

                Scott drew away, the pink sparks from Remy’s hand sparking across his own skin, holding his burned hand curiously in confusion.

                Gambit felt faint. He dropped on hands and knees, sobbing for breath before spitting up bile onto the floor. His body felt like a humming live-wire, and he could still see flickerings of the universe Phoenix had shown him flashing behind his closed eyelids.

                “You’ll be alright in a moment,” Scott’s voice said quietly, sounding softer and less threatening now. “You have to adjust, that’s all. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to take time, but you’ll manage. You don’t know it yet, Remy, but you’re much more than the flesh you occupy. Your energy is as immortal as I am. It’ll outlive this body, it’ll outlive the stars themselves. I just want you to see that.”

                “Why…” Gambit gurgled, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Why should I care?”

                “It’s lonely, out there. Alone in that vast, cold, blackness with nothing but the void of eons stretching out in front of me. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

                Remy didn’t say anything for a moment, taking this in. He got to his feet again, eyeing Scott with a suspicious eye. “Lonely…dat’s not something you understood. Not before you came to Jean.”

                “No. I was alone in the universe, but I didn’t feel the weight of that isolation. Your kind gave my suffering a name. And it gave me a solution.”

                The Cajun looked stunned for a second and then laughed. “Oh homme…immortality sounds temptin’ and all…” he drew closer to Scott, only to strike him hard in the face, and then in the stomach, before sending him to the floor by striking him across the shoulders with his elbow. When Scott went down flat, Remy kicked him in the head, knocking him unconscious. He hastily turned and grabbed a length of chain from the shelf and dragged Scott’s arms behind his back, binding them with the rusty links until he was satisfied he would not be able to break free.

                “Computer, enemies defeated, end program!”

                _“Request denied”_

                “Fuck you wit a screwdriver, Danger, why!? If I ever get de hell out of here, I’m dismantling your hard drive and selling it for spare parts!”

                But the lull was much too short.

                But where Wolverine failed, the Phoenix persisted. With a burst of heat that stifled and blistered the other mutant, he surged upward again, breaking his bonds, knocking Remy to the edge of the loft, teetering on the edge.

                “Stop stalling, Gambit. You know how to end this fight.”

                He winced as he felt the heat under his skin rise again, energy crackling across his skin, making him feel like he would burst if he didn’t discharge it. Though it pained him, LeBeau held it in check. “No one gets to tell me how to use my powers, no one turns me on and off like a switch! Especially not some fuckin’ space parasite!”

                He reached and grabbed hold of a rusty length of chain close to his hand, let the energy surge through it and swung it like a whip, letting it catch around Scott’s arm and neck before it exploded. The resulting pulse, which was even more powerful than his previous ones, knocked Remy from the edge and sent him tumbling to the floor far below.

                But like a cat, he landed on his feet. Or rather, he hit the mountain of hay and bounced and rolled until he reached the ground at a run. The upper level of the barn exploded in a burst of flame, and Remy looked up, horrified at the flaming vision of the Phoenix rising into the air, above its host’s form.

                “STOP FIGHTING ME, GAMBIT! I’M NOT YOUR ENEMY HERE!”

                Sinister Wolverine leapt through the smoke and the flames, eyes red and claws drawn, ready to bounce. _“HE IS!”_

                Remy grabbed his staff again, only to have it ripped from his hand by Scott’s telekinesis. With nothing to arm himself with, he knew the only choice he had was his kinetic abilities. Charm would not serve him here, not against a hologram.

                But rather than grab Logan, as it seemed Scott expected him to, he put his glowing hands to the bolted door behind him. The old wood beams burst into splinters around him, causing the rest of the shaky and damaged structure to collapse inward on itself.

                Remy managed to clear the structure by a narrow margin, and while he was able to avoid being crushed under the falling wood, he was still overcome by the ensuing pulse of dust, burning and splintered debris.

                Nothing moved for several minutes and the simulated world around them stuttered and blinked in and out of existence.

                _“Combatants down, scanning for injuries…initiate emergency medical overrides…”_

“About fuckin’ time…” Remy groaned, coming back to himself after a momentary black out. There was wood chips and dust in his hair, his leather trench coat peppered and torn by it, as was his uniform, leaving tiny scratches and cuts wherever the wood had gotten through the thick material.

                Coughing and pushing away the lingering wreckage around him, Remy tried to get to his feet again. Maybe this time he could force an exit to appear. He got up, hobbling on bruised legs back towards where he had come in.

                “Well, Remy…today ain’t gone so well, oui? Maybe we go back to bed for a week or two…start over…wake up when dis whole mess has blown over…”

                A heavy body crashed into his from behind and flattened him to the ground. Remy groaned as the air was crushed out of him, and screamed when he felt a heavy clawed hand pin his head down, body grinding harshly against his.

                “Where do you think you’re going?” an angry, lustful voice hissed in his ear.

                Remy went immediately into fight-or-flight mode, clawing the ground and trying to pry himself out from under Sinister Wolverine’s crushing figure. His struggle was rewarded with more roughness, Wolverine’s claws cutting through the fabric of his cut, shredding it away from his skin, down his back and across his thighs.

                Remy screamed and bellowed, thrashing like a fish in a net underneath the man, despite being unable to escape. This was _not_ going to happen _again_ , he was not going to be violated like this, used like this, especially not on the whim of a delusional space entity and its jealous host.

                He tried to focus enough to create a charge, to blow this monstrous simulation into bits and bolts before it could do any further damage. But felt drained. Whatever Scott had done to him before his escape had left him too weak to create more than few feeble sparks.

                How was the Danger Room letting this happen? No where in its programming should _this_ be allowed. He felt himself choking on panic, knowing what was coming next in this scenario.

                “ABORT MISSION, ABORT MISSION! EMERGENCY PROTOCOL! CAN ANYONE FUCKING HEAR ME?! HELP!!”

                Sinister Wolverine’s hand closed hard over his mouth and nose, smothering him as he yanked him backwards into his lap. Head yanked backward, he could see Scott looking down at him from above, wreathed in fire, glaring down at him.

                “Come on, Remy! If you want to escape, you know what you have to do! Your energy doesn’t weaken, only your body does! Push past it, break free!”

                But it didn’t make sense, Scott was just spewing madness.

                He continued to squirm, but each act of resistance was just met with more violence from Logan. Gambit’s hands kept sparking, but nothing was coming and the man was killing him slowly—

                There came a shout that startled all of them, and Remy felt something else collide with them hard and fast, sending them all spinning and rolling across the ground. He found himself on his back, dizzy and gasping for air, jaw and cheeks bruised. When his vision cleared, he turned his head to see a possibly stranger sight than before.

                Logan—his Logan---engaged in a vicious battle with Sinter Wolverine. The two bellowed and snarled at each other like rabid, wild things, claws flashing, cleaving at flesh without hesitance. But Logan was quickly overpowering the simulation, who for all its menace, lacked survival and protective instincts that drove the real man into berserker mode.

                Above them Scott shouted, and attempted to interfere, reading throw a fireball at the two men grappling upon the ground, only to be struck by a blinding flash of lightning that made him scream and writhe, thrown through the air to crash into the wall.

                Storm had pried her way into the room as well, followed by Bobby. Xavier was above them all, in the control room, trying to override the computer’s corrupted systems and shut down the simulation.

                The world around them continued to stutter and break in and out of reality, Sinister Wolverine losing tangibility until Logan was able to run both claws through his chest, right at his heart, which was considered a death blow. As his foe slumped over, the feral shook him from his claws, letting him fall lifeless to the ground staring down at it. “What the hell is that thing…?”

                Above them, Storm and Scott continued to battle each other, Bobby circling around the man, throwing ice balls at him in an attempt to knock him out of the air. Ororo charged the man directly, crashing against him, grabbing his hands as he tried to force her back. His skin burned her, but she held fast, teeth bared, eyes white.

                “Didn’t learn your lesson the first time, Ororo?” The Phoenix grunted, trying to force her away, his body growing more intensely hot, threatening to burn her.

                “Seems like you didn’t either!” She punched him in the face, turning his head, and Bobby covered him in freezing hail and snow, threatening to smother the flames emanating from him and bring him back down to the ground.

                “We’re gonna make you sorry you ever set foot on this planet! Let Scott go!”

                “I _am_ Scott! I _am_ Phoenix! We are one!”

                “LIKE HELL YOU ARE!” Ororo blew the man skywards with a fierce updraft, sending him crashing into the ceiling, causing the panels above it crack and break. Scott spiraled towards the ground, seemingly beaten, only to catch himself half way down, bursting back to life with another wave of fire, which spread itself out across the room like wings.

                Overwhelmed, knowing the risk of capture was too great and its goal lost for the moment, the Phoenix sought its only other option; escape. It roared upward, sending both Storm and Ice Man scrambling to escape its wrath and broke through the ceiling of the Danger Room.

                It didn’t stop there, crashing upward further and further, tearing its way through the upper floors of the mansion until it broke through the roof. Free at last, it soared into the air, letting out a deafening cry that was heard for miles as it stretched its wings, and vanished over the horizon line.

 

***


	18. Chapter 18

***

               

                The world was a blur of cities, mountains, fields and lakes as he passed over it, streaking across the sky like a comment. Though the sun was rising on the East Coast, it was still dark over the Midwest, and as Scott soared over the mountains, he found the world dark and still sleepy on the far West Coast, just past the shoreline of San Francisco, California.

                He had covered the distance in barely twenty minutes, knowing that back in West Chester they were still scrambling to raise an alarm, and neither the X-Men nor SHEILD were prepared to make any defensive moves against him. But he did not feel worried, nor concerned with their plans for him. He had grown strong enough now, despite their efforts, to do as he willed.

                Hovering there above the dark, calm waters, he considered his next move. It would not be advisable for him to go down and try hiding among the throngs of Humans and Mutants in the large city below him. If they became aware of who he was, they would attack out of fear, and Scott knew he could hurt them all with a simple thought now. He didn’t want that. Carnage and senseless casualties were not his purpose here.

                None the less, he needed a defensible position, somewhere he could rest and regain the energy he had already expended on his escape, and to determine where he would go from here. As he thought, the tide below him began to recede, and the water to churn strangely. Without being fully conscious of this effort, Scott was drawing from the surrounding shore rock and earth, gravel and sand and water from the ocean itself. It began to collect and spin around him, and he moved higher into the air, drawing it upward with him. In doing so, more and more of it began to collect, clustering more quickly now, growing hot as it created a small core.

                The Phoenix directed its movements with his mind, watching the elements create a small island of land, floating in midair about four hundred feet above the ocean’s surface.

                Now that it had created a sizable mass, he moved across it, finding he could shape the otherwise, rocky, flat plane however he wanted with only a slight movement of his hand. So he did.

                He created cliffs and ridges, falling down into a wide arching valley below it. Spires of rock rose at the edges of the island, acting as a defensive wall to protect the land beyond it. With the bare rock shaped below him, he took it further, creating soil from seemingly nothing, and bringing water to the small lake and river bed he created at both the tops and bottom of the cliffs. With water, purified of its salt, Scott willed this strange new piece of earth to _grow_. Grass and flowers, even trees and underbrush burst forth with unbridled fervor, reaching peak growth and maturity in seconds.

                The Phoenix reveled in their true purpose, their real reason for being. To create, to bring life where there had previously only existed a void. As he continued to shape the growing mass, Scott felt tears in his eyes, and a smile spreading across his face that he couldn’t have contained if he had wanted to. Look at what he could do! Look at this gift, this real, true _gift_ he had been given. Oh if only Charles and the others could see him now, could see _this_ , would they still think him evil in his intents for this world? Would they still try to hold him back?

                He needed to show them, all of them, that he wasn’t here as a destroyer. That had never been the Phoenix’s intention. It wanted to create, it wanted to better this world, to put them all back on the path they were meant to be and raise them out of this stagnant hell they had been drowning in. This was the first step, now that they were free, now that they were powerful enough.

                This place he was making, wasn’t just for him. Once he had everything he needed, it would be a place for all of them. A place for Mutants to thrive and be, a place where those who hated and feared them could not reach. It wasn’t a perfect solution, no. But that would come in time. When they were ready to accept it.

                As the last details were falling into place, Scott felt himself starting to shake, his energy dwindling. The warm fiery glow that had surrounded him began to dim and fade like embers in a fireplace. He had overspent himself. Whatever powers Phoenix and Jean had allowed him, his physical body was not yet fully equipped to handle it.

                He dropped down onto the newly formed island at a controlled descent and fell to his knees, trying to catch his breath. Jean’s voice was in his head again.

                _“You’re alright, Scott. You’re alright. You don’t have long to rest. They will be looking for you soon.”_

                “I’m scared…” he admitted. “What if they catch me?”

                _“Don’t let them.”_

                He nodded, pushing himself up and looking around to survey his work at a closer level. It was beautiful, lush and green, cool under the dark sky. Scott was sure that he could build a home here for all of them in time. But there was still much work to be done, and he couldn’t do it alone.

                _You can’t continue without LeBeau. What you took from him will serve you for a time, but it won’t be enough to achieve our goal. You need to find him._

                “I can’t go back there now. They will fight, and that’s to say nothing of what SHEILD will do. Let them see what we’ve done, let them see that this is for _good_ , not evil. And then they will come to us, I’m sure of it.”

                But the Phoenix rallied against this idea.

                _We do not have time! Without the kinetic energy source to sustain us, we grow weak in this human body. You need to finish what you started._

                Scott gasped, seeing the scenario played out in his mind’s eye; he would find Gambit, separate him from the rest of the team. The chain reaction he had already begun in the man would be complete in short succession. Remy’s physical form would deteriorate; he would evolve into an energy being, capable of sustaining the firebird’s hunger for ages. In this way, the Phoenix could maintain their form, their consciousness. 

                Scott didn’t understand, “That’s not…this is _not_ what you said. You said that if I did what you asked, if I brought Remy into this and used his power that you would separate from me! That you would die otherwise…” he scowled angrily. “You manipulated me.”

                Before him, a burning image appeared. A projection of the consciousness that had joined with his. But they could not hold a single form. The flaming apparition shifted and changed, taking the shape of a firebird one moment, then becoming Jean the next, and even taking Scott’s own form as they attempted to maintain a presence in the physical world.

                _Not entirely. What we witnessed before was true—your mind was not strong enough to contain both our consciousness and your own without irreparable harm. But that has changed._

                “Why should I believe that? Why should I believe anything you say?”

                _Look around you. Is this not proof enough?_

                Scott began to reply, then paused. Suddenly, he felt unsure. He’d never felt this powerful before and what he could do now, with Phoenix’s help…oh but it frightened him. He was starting to remember now, the things he had said to Gambit inside the Danger Room, the things he had done to try to force him into leaving with him. He thought about the dream and he quivered all over, wrapping his arms around himself and sinking to the ground again.

                “Oh my God…no, no, I didn’t want _this_.”

                  _We gave you what **exactly** what you wanted, Scott Summers. You desired power, you desired importance, you desired to prove yourself. _

                Scott shook his head, trying to make sense of it. He felt in his gut that this was a lie, but at the same time the words were twisting themselves around his thoughts and he no longer knew the truth. He had wanted those things, but he hadn’t asked for this to happen…had he?

                Neither said anything for a time and slowly Scott picked himself back up, feeling the exhaustion lessen. “What will you do if we separate?”

                The Phoenix didn’t answer, staring at him blankly. Scott scowled and watched its mirror form of himself waver until it dissolved into an orb of fire, changed from red and gold to blue and purple, sinking down onto the scorched earth below it.

                He crouched beside it, concerned that it’s light was growing weak as if damaged somehow. Without thinking, he reached out to grab the small, burning orb and found that it didn’t harm him when his scooped it up into his palm.

                _We will end the threat against the Mutants. We will restore balance. And then we will return to the darkness whence we came to die, and rise again, as we have always done._

                “And I’ll…go back to being me.”

                _Is this… **doubt**_ _you feel?_ _You’re no longer sure you want to return to your former state._

                Scott glared at the orb of fire, flustered it had read his emotions so quickly and easily, though it shouldn’t have surprised him considering it was still attached to his thoughts and consciousness.

                _Alone. You do not wish to be alone._

“No.”

                _Nor do we._

                It seemed they had come to an agreement. He looked up, hearing planes pass far above him in the dark. They would be found soon, and they must not be taken unprepared. The orb in his hand vanished and Cyclops breathed deep, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

 

**

 

               

                Bobby was sitting anxiously in a chair outside of Xavier’s office. He had already been interviewed by Xavier and Director Fury about what had taken place in the Danger Room, and the events directly leading up to it.

                His anxiety pulsed through him, managing to cruelly paralyze him physically while his mind was a run-away train of ever mounting fears and scenarios in which Scott would never return. He couldn’t move from the chair, not even to pace, not even to fidget. The only motion he seemed capable of was the shaking in his fingers as he sat in silence, waiting, wondering, drowning.

                Logan’s hand was on his shoulder, startling him so much that he spontaneously covered them both in frost.

                “Steady,” Wolverine assured. He removed his hand and shook the ice shavings from it as Bobby blushed with embarrassment. “Just me, kiddo.”

                “Sorry,” the blonde mumbled. “I didn’t hear you.”

                He glanced back at the door, expecting to see Hank and Storm, but no one else had emerged.

                “Did they tell you anything? Are they tracking him? I mean, it’s SHEILD right? They always have a way of spying and tracking people, it’s like one of those things they just _do_ and—“

                “Follow me, kid. Let’s talk about this elsewhere.”

                He stood cautiously, seeming confused or reluctant to leave his place. But Logan was already moving down the hall and of course, Bobby followed.

                The power was out in large portions of the house, but they navigated through the dark well enough, and eventually finding some place where they could speak privately. Logan sniffed the air faintly, affirming that they were indeed alone before he turned to speak to the younger man.

                “No, they haven’t found him yet, but they’re looking. But that’s not exactly a good thing.  Fury means to capture him and put him in lock-down indefinitely when they do find him. And I don’t know about you, but none of that sounds good to me.”

                Bobby shook his head. “So what do we do?”

                “We bide our time and step in before they can. Scott’s an X-Man, we take care of our own.”

                Iceman nodded gratefully though he still rubbed his arms nervously, bobbing his head. “Logan, I’m sorry. I fucked up. I wanted to help Scott, and I just kept driving him further away. I should have listened to Remy, I should have told him the truth.”

                “What truth?”

                “That I love him. I love Scott.”

                Logan blinked and his face soured. “Oh gross.”

                “Logan!”

                “Sorry, sorry—“ the dark haired Canadian corrected, sighing heavily and running his fingers back through the scruffy black mane on his head. “But Jesus Christ, why him?”

                “Do you really want me to answer that?”

                “Yeah, I suppose yer right there.” He paused to consider this a bit further. “That why you’ve been a total ass to my boyfriend lately?”

                Bobby nodded in mute embarrassment. “I was jealous. I shouldn’t have been…I was so afraid to face Scott and tell him how I felt…it was easier to be angry at Remy. It all comes so effortlessly to him; getting people to like him, trust him.” He chewed his lower lip. “Then again, I guess that’s partly cause of his power. Cause really, he’s kind of a huge dork.”

                Wolverine chuckled softly. “Tell me about it.”

“Is…he going to be okay?”

Logan folded his arms thoughtfully, looking more serious now. “I don’t know.”

Bobby looked at his feet again, miserably. Logan clapped a hand on Bobby’s shoulder again. “Look, I’m not gonna act like you were in the right here, kid, or that yer lovesickness excuses the shit you pulled. But I know what it is to feel like you might lose someone you can’t live without.”

Drake looked on the edge of tears as he nodded and Logan tugged him forward into a tight embrace that Bobby didn’t realize how badly he needed.

The older man let him catch his breath and collect himself before speaking again; “Alright, lets get down to it. Chuck is already trying to psychically track Scott with Cerebro. We’ll have a fix on him soon, with psychic energy that powerful. Once we have a lock, we head out. I’m going to need you in my corner, Bobby. Not much I can do against the Phoenix’s powers other than stay alive, but your abilities might actually make some headway.”

“My ice? It’ll just melt…”

“Not if you make it strong enough, and thick enough. And definitely not if you take him by surprise. I’m going to need you to be ready to move when the time comes. You might be our only chance to knock him down long enough to Stark to use his machine on him.”

“Machine?”

“I’m sure you’ll get the details later, but right now I need to know that you’re ready to handle this. One shot, Bobby. That’s all we get. If we miss, if we fail…” for a moment Logan looked as pale and nervous as he did. “We can’t fail.”

Iceman nodded in stern agreement.

 

**

 

                Hank’s lab was in ruins, but the ever resourceful doctor was already salvaging his work, mending what he could, and making do with what remained of his equipment.

                Though The Phoenix had done a great deal of damage to the secure area of the lab, some of the quarantine cells remained intact. At least one, which Gambit now occupied.

                The Cajun was sitting curled up in a ball against the wall, stripped out of his shredded clothing and placed instead in plain light blue pajama like scrubs. Beneath the thin fabric, his skin continued to glow and pulse with bright magenta colored light that would fade in and out like firefly glow. The Cajun kept his head down, buried in the crook of his arms on top of his knees.

                While Hank worked, Storm watched him from the other side of the thick plexiglass. “How long do we have to keep him in there?”

                “Until I stabilize him,” McCoy answered distractedly. He was digging through charred and ruined drawers, looking for salvageable equipment while processing data on his laptop from the samples he’d already collected from Remy, comparing to the ones he’d taken from the night before. There was a startling spike in their irregularity, but Hank still wasn’t sure exactly what that meant yet.

                “Does he have to be…locked up?”

                “I hate it too, Ororo. But his energy levels are still off the chart and rising steadily. I’m can’t be certain that he isn’t at risk of accidentally igniting even organic matter with his energy. We can’t afford to take anymore risks…”

                The woman stepped away from the glass wall and moved back over to McCoy, putting her hand over the top of the screen and forcing him to meet her eyes. “I know you’re doing the best you can right now, Hank. But don’t forget that he’s a person, not just a patient.”

                “I haven’t. Not for a moment.”

                “Let me go in there.”

                “No, Ororo. Once the glow has stopped, once his energy surge is under controllable levels then yes, but right now—“

                “Hank, he doesn’t know what’s happening to him!”

                “Neither do I!” McCoy barked back, pushed into raising his voice under her insistence.

                There was a faint tapping noise and they both looked back, seeing that Gambit was now standing at the wall, looking back at them with hands pressed against the glass.

                The pair looked back at him, finding themselves frozen with apprehension for a moment, unsure what to say, unsure how to help. Storm moved back towards the glass and touched the button on the intercom speaker.

                “Hi,”

                “Hi.”

                “How are you holding up?”

                “Peachy.” The man on the other side of the glass muttered humorously. “What happened to Scott?”

                “Charles is tracking him with Cerebro; Fury is making plans to capture and contain him as soon as he’s located.”

                “Dey can try, sure,” Remy answered. “But I don’t envy ‘em. He’s too powerful now, feeding off my energy gave ‘im all the boost he needed. Anybody try and fuck wit him now…is gonna burn.”

                Nervousness pinched in Ororo’s chest at the starkly grim way her lover spoke of the situation, and glanced back at McCoy, who looked equally troubled. “It’s not hopeless, Remy. I think between us and the Avengers, we can manage the situation.”

                “You don’t ‘manage’ a t’ing like de Phoenix, cherie.”

                “Remy,” Hank began quietly. “I need to know what happened between you and Cyclops in the Danger Room. What he said to you, if anything. Why he’s feeding off your energy source, what his plan is…and what that thing was that he set after you in the program.”

                The Cajun was not quick to answer his questions, or even acknowledge him fully. Hank had hoped that the direness of the current situation would put their earlier row aside, but this was clearly not the case.

                “Remy, please,” Storm urged. “We are in the dark here. Even when the Phoenix possessed Jean it did not behave this way. We need to understand what is happening; if there’s any chance at all to save Scott. Whatever he said to you might help us when we confront him.”

                “There won’t be any confrontin’,” the disheveled man grumbled, having lost his charm and his humor, weary and exhausted. “If you _do_ manage to catch up to ‘im, de only way you have any chance at all will be to catch him by surprise.  He’s paranoid, he’ll expect you to come at ‘im wit everyt’ing you have.”

                Hank stepped closer to the cell and looked to Ororo. “Go and find Logan and Bobby. I’d like a moment alone with Mr. LeBeau. If, that’s alright with him.”

                Remy shrugged. “Doesn’t exactly look like I have a choice in de matter.”

                “I’ll be back,” Storm promised before casting a concerned look at Beast, hand on his, and then quietly excused herself, leaving them alone in the dimly lit room.

                Once sure she was gone, Hank drew in a steadying breath and looked back at his patient. “I was wrong, Remy. I was wrong about all of this. About you. I let my insecurities, my faults, my fears above my trust and judgement. That is my failing, not yours. I was jealous. I was selfish. And a coward. Just as you said.”

                Remy looked at him without emotion, something Hank was not used to experiencing from the Empath. “But we need to put all of that aside right now. Right now, I’m speaking to you as a member of the X-Men. Cyclops has gone rouge. It is extremely likely, given the volatile nature of the Phoenix force, that he will cause a great deal of destruction if he is not stopped. As much as I know you detest this idea, you are key to discovering how to stop him. Why is he feeding on your energy source, Remy? Why does he need it?”

                Gambit seemed to consider these words for a moment or two in silence, and Hank was not even entirely sure he would answer him. But then Remy spoke; “It’s lonely. De Phoenix. It’s aware of itself in a way in never was before it came to Earth, before it bonded with Jean, and now Scott. Getting tangled up in all these negative human emotions has messed it up.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “I mean…I saw what it saw. De universe, the vastness of it all. De Phoenix brings life, it brings change…dat’s its purpose. It wasn’t supposed to _want_. It wasn’t supposed to _desire_. But now it does. Jean’s mind is caught up in it, now so is Scott’s. It wants what they want. Not to be alone anymore.”

                “But why does it need you?”

                The other man tried to think, “Dat part I’m not sure of…something about making me like itself. Something immortal. Someone to ease de loneliness.” He looked down at his faintly incandescent flesh with a dull sense of doom. “Funny t’ing is…I don’t t’ink either Scott or I are physically equipped to handle de demands of eternity.”

                Hank nodded slowly, taking in the information.

                “I’m still learning how your mutation works, but I’m confident that it’s not too late to reverse the process. I’ll get you back to normal, I swear it.”

                Remy didn’t say anything, just leaning against the glass looking back at him. “Dis glass is thick, but my empathy can still pick up on your feelings, cher. You’re scared. You think I’m dyin’.”

                McCoy froze. “Feelings are not facts. I’m worried for you. I’m terrified. But I see that fear as motivation, nothing more. You’re going to be ok.” He turned away before Remy could say anything else. “Try and get some rest in the meantime.”

                But he had no sooner started back towards his chair then he heard a faint, but steady rumbling sound. Looking down at his coffee cup, he saw the ripples appearing on the surface, growing faster by the second. The safety lights above them flickered and Hank moved hurriedly towards Gambit’s door.

                LeBeau was staring at the ceiling, eyes wide, skin starting to grow brighter. “Hank…”

                He slammed his thick blue finger against the intercom button, addressing the upper levels of the house rather than the small enclosed cell in front of him. “What’s going on up there? Can anyone hear me? We’re experiencing tremors in the lab, is everyone—“

                “McCoy! Do you still have Lebeau?” Logan’s gruff voice interrupted his call. His words were static-laced and broken, there was a good deal of noise in the background behind him that even Hank’s sensitive feline ears couldn’t quite place.

                “Yes! Logan what’s going—“

                “Get him out, Hank! Get yourselves out of the lab, now!”

                Hank started to request more information, but Logan’s urgent and fearful tone was enough. Above them, his security system began to sound off, announcing that a threat had come onto the grounds. The mansion was trying to shut down and seal itself off to prevent invasion from something it considered an imminent threat.

                Having designed the program himself, Hank knew that only certain power signatures would set off this sort of reaction from the system. Something as powerful as a Sentinel, or Magneto himself would have to do the trick. But right now, he doubted it was either of those things.

                Beast pried the door open, reaching for Gambit, who took his hand an allowed Beast to tug him forward and pull him free just as the room began to shake more violently, filling with hot red and yellow light.  Hank tried to shield his eyes and brace himself against the sudden, overwhelming heat, but he felt like he had just been pushed into an oven.

                For a moment he felt Gambit press himself hard against him and then the Cajun pulled him abruptly backwards, shoving Hank’s thick frame into the contained cell. The doctor stumbled and fell onto his back as Remy pushed the door closed.

                “Remy! Remy no!”

                “Stay down!” Gambit yelled back, and Beast realized this move wasn’t one of treachery but of a last ditch effort to protect him from the consuming presence that had entered the room. There was a sound, a screech that didn’t sound human. Remy turned back towards the light and another concussive wave shook the room so hard that Hank bellowed and flattened himself to the floor, feeling like he might burst from the heat and pressure.

                This was all followed by silence.

                Hank wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been lying there before he was able to sit up again, the white burning blots of light clearing from his vision and allowing him to see. Everything smelled hot and ashy, and when he looked back towards what remained of his lab he realized that a good deal more damage had been done.

                But Gambit was nowhere in sight.

 

***


End file.
